Sammie Rae
by SciFiNutTX
Summary: A girl is orphaned after a Wendingo attack and Dean starts playing Dad. Sam knows their life is too dangerous for a young child, but can he convince Dean of that? And what if she does have someone back home after all? COMPLETE
1. After the Wendingo

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own SN, Sam or Dean

This is my first attempt at a chapter fic. Hope you like it!

**Sammie Rae **

**Ch.1 – After the Wendingo **

"Dean!" Sam ran through the thick woods. He heard gunfire earlier, but that was useless against a Wendingo. He had already led some campers they had run across to the road safely and now was searching for his stupid brother who undoubtedly confronted the beast alone. His heart pounded against his chest, threatening to either explode or crack some ribs. He was not sure which option he preferred. "Dean!"

"Yo, Sam! Over here!"

Sam felt a flood of relief at the sound of his brother's voice. He followed it until he came across a clearing. There was a rather blood-splattered but very alive Dean Winchester.

"Dean! You okay? Did you get it? How did you get it?" The questions poured out of Sam. Then he noticed a small hand clinging to the pocket of Dean's jeans. "What's that?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Well, actually, I could probably use a few stitches, but what else is new, right?" Dean was grinning at him, victorious over another evil creature.

"Dean?" Sam pointed to the small hand that was holding on to Dean so tight it had white knuckles.

"Hmm? Oh, right. I found her inside the Wendingo's cave. She's fine. Let's get to the car." Dean started walking, a severe limp in his right leg.

Sam stood in Dean's path. "How did you kill it, Dean?"

"Well, since that flare gun worked so well last time, I've been packing one." Dean shot him that lop-sided grin. "Worked like a charm!"

"I think we need to get you to a doctor, Dean. That limp looks pretty bad." Sam cast a practiced eye over his brother's walk.

"Yeah, I'm really not looking forward to the five mile hike back," Dean admitted.  
That drew Sam's attention. Then Dean reached down and picked up the girl attached to the clutching hand. "Especially since I'm walking for two." He grinned at her.

Her face was blank, lifeless. Sam shuddered. "Dean? Is there something-"

"We'll talk about it later," Dean cut him off, arranging the girl so she was holding on to his neck and her weight was over his good leg.

"Right. Fine." Sam looked into those lifeless eyes again. He wondered if she was possessed. Quickly discounting that possibility, especially since his brother was often the first one to spot the signs, he wondered what kind of horrors she must have seen in that cave to make her like this.

Dean looked ready to pass out by the time the car was in sight, but he still had a firm grip on his small charge. Actually, she was probably not that small. She had to be near four feet in height, but thin almost to an unhealthy degree and so filthy Sam could not determine her hair color. If he had to guess her age, Sam would say definitely between eight and ten years old. He would be shocked to learn she was only six. Perhaps it was her vacant stare, or the eyes that were too old for such a young child that fooled him.

As Sam started up the Impala, Dean tried to lay the girl in the backseat, but she clung to him as if he were her last lifeline. Finally he held her in his lap in the passenger seat. Sam started to say something, but the Impala did not exactly have seatbelts anyway, so what was the point? He drove slowly over the unpaved roads. When they reached the highway, he headed straight for the hospital.

"Not yet, Sam," Dean said, pointing out a local library.

Sam pulled into the parking lot. "What, Dean? I don't think this is the time for research."

"I do." Dean's steady gaze told Sam that his brother had made a decision. Lord help them all. "I want you to go inside and check on any families who disappeared out there in the past couple of weeks." He looked down at the sleeping child in his lap. Her head lolled against his shoulder.

Sam reached into the backseat. His hand came back with a thick folder. "Already did, remember? Hang on," Sam flipped through his research. "Just one family. Disappeared about four days ago. John and Holly McDermott and their daughter Clementine, age six." Sam looked at the girl again. "Can't be her. She's older than that."

"No," Dean shook his head. "It has to be her." Careful not to wake the child, he reached into his jacket pocket to produce a wallet. "Found it in the cave. Must be her father's," he explained as he handed it over.

Sam looked inside at the identification for John McDermott. He let out a low whistle. "Well, what do you know? I never would have guessed she was only six."

"Now I want you to go see if she has any living relatives." Dean jerked his head at the library again.

Sam frowned. "She saw it, didn't she? That's why she looks like that."

Dean nodded. "Near as I can tell, she watched the damn thing eat both her parents. I guess she was next. We have to explain it to her family so they'll understand what's wrong with her."

Sam's eyebrows shot up into his bangs. "And you think they're going to believe us?"

Dean glared back. "We don't have a whole lot of options here, Sam."

"Right." Sam stepped out of the car. He shut the door as quietly as he could. The girl, Clementine, did not move.

As he walked away, he heard his brother's voice mumbling, "There is no way I'm calling you Clementine."

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Sam did every quick records search he could think of with no results. Not wanting to delay medical treatment any longer for his brother or the girl, he headed back out to the car. Both Dean and the girl were sleeping. Dean woke with a start as the engine roared to life. The girl continued to sleep, one fist clutching Dean's shirt.

"Find anything?"

"Nope," Sam's frustrations came out as a growl. "Near as I can tell, both of her parents may have been orphans. Now what? She becomes a ward of the state? Poor kid. They'll have no idea what to do with her."

Dean was oddly silent as the Impala prowled through the streets to the hospital. Dean motioned for Sam to pull through the Emergency entrance. He carried the girl in his arms. "See you inside."

"Right."

Sam parked the car and hurried in. Dean was no where to be seen. He walked up to the admissions desk. "Excuse me? My brother just came in; do you know where he is?"

"Just now?" The admissions nurse asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, you must mean the man who just found his daughter, who was lost in the woods for three days? What a wonderful father! You're his brother? Come on, I'll take you to him," she bustled through the door at the end of admissions.

Sam's mind was in a whirl. Wonderful father? Dean? He tried to shake away the image, but it would not go. When it came to women, Dean was definitely the love 'em and leave 'em type. But Sam wondered what kind of father Dean would make, and that thought alone scared the hell out of him.

The registration nurse pulled back a white curtain to reveal Dean hovering over the little girl, holding her hand, while an ER doctor examined her. He was patting her hand, whispering comforting words. She was staring blankly at the ceiling. Sam doubted any of this was registering with her.

"Well, she is malnourished and dehydrated, which is to be expected after being lost in the woods for three days. But I have no idea why she is unresponsive. I would like permission to run some neurological tests." The doctor was shining a penlight into the girl's eyes. "Sammie Rae, can you hear me?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, we just call her Rae."

"Thank you," the doctor smiled at him. "I know how worried you must be. I'll bring back the permission forms." The doctor pushed past Sam on his way.

"Sam. How long you been standing there? Come here," Dean motioned to an empty chair.

Sam moved closer to his brother. "Sammie Rae?" he hissed.

Dean gave him an embarrassed smile as he shrugged. "First thing that popped in my head," he claimed. Sam's eyes narrowed. Somehow he doubted that.

Three days later a much healthier, if still vacant and thin, Sammie Rae was released from the hospital clinging to Dean. Dean still had a slight limp and about fifteen stitches but all in all Sam had seen his brother look better, but perhaps not happier. Now that was another disturbing thought. Rae, as Dean had taken to calling Clementine, had shrieked every time Dean left her hospital room. So he had stayed at the hospital, sleeping in those visitor chairs he hated so much, for three days.

"Sam, you need to watch Rae for me for a couple of hours." Dean informed him as they drove to a local motel.

"Why, Dean? You have a lead on her family?" Sam was ever hopeful, the optimist.

"Nah. I need to pick up some cash." Rae, or rather, Clementine, was nestled in Dean's lap, her vacant eyes staring out the window.

"So you want me to babysit while you go out and hustle?" Sam demanded.

Dean clapped his hands over the child's ears. "Sam! Do you mind?" he growled.

"As a matter of fact, Dean, yes! I do mind!" Sam slammed a fist on the steering wheel. "It's not like you're adopting this girl!" There was silence in the car. "Dean?" More silence. "Dean!"

"Now, Sam, I know that legally-"

"Legally? Dean, legally this is already kidnapping!" Sam threw him a furious look. "And you can not just – just – keep that girl!"

"Sam! Not in front of the K – I – D."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And watch where you're driving!" Quick reflexes saved them from bumping into another car during Sam's eyerolls. Sam was huffing for all he was worth by the time they reached the motel.

Dean ignored him completely. He carried Rae, no – Clementine, inside and set her on the bed. He turned on the cartoon channel for her before unloading his stuff out of the car. As Sam carried in his own bag he was amazed that the kid was not screaming bloody murder each time Dean stepped out of the room. He wondered if she even knew where she was.

"See? No problem. Sam, you just hang out here and I'll be back before you know it. Rae? Behave for Uncle Sam!" Dean slammed the door before Sam could say anything.

Sam fumed for several minutes, glaring at the closed door. Realizing that this course of action was really inaction, Sam brought out his trusty laptop. He found a local wireless network to tap into. Really. People should at least make it a challenge by setting up passwords. Of course, passwords just take another minute, maybe two.

Sam started a full search on all possible relatives of Clementine McDermot. As he was researching the McDermots of Carson City, an idle thought struck Sam. Was the girl inside there at all? Or was she merely a shell? Sam lifted the remote control for the television and shut it off. He returned to his research. Soon he had the uneasy feeling he was being watched. Sam looked up through his bangs. She was staring at him, with those vacant eyes. He lifted the remote again and clicked the television back on. She turned back to watch her cartoons. Huh. Maybe there was someone in there after all.

The McDermots of LA were of no real relation, either. Sam sighed in frustration. There had to be a McDermot somewhere who – Sam slapped his forehead. The mother's family! He started a new search. Her maiden name was Williams. Gee. Couldn't it have been something easy, like Smith? He let out a long, long sigh.

She was looking at him again. "Sorry," he murmured. She did not look away. "I don't suppose you have any grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?" He met her vacant gaze. The skin around her eyes tightened and her eyes sudden had a spark of life in them. She nodded.

"Really?" Sam jumped up and rushed to over to her. He knelt in front of her, making sure he was at her eye level. "Who? Can you give me a name?"

She nodded again. One finger prodded Sam in the chest. Her vacant stare returned and she turned back to watch Spongebob.

Sam rocked back on his heels. Him? Dean did call him Uncle Sam earlier, but that was a joke. This girl could not possibly travel with them. It was ridiculous. This job was far too dangerous to have a child with them.

Sam returned to his laptop. He kept researching Rae, er, Clementine's family tree. As he searched, the girl kept drawing his attention. She was simply staring at the television, her face blank. He wondered what horrors she had seen, was still seeing. Dad was always careful not to let them see too much at an early age. Well, at least him. He knew Dean always did stuff at a younger age than he had ever been allowed, but Dean was older. At least, that was what Sam always told himself. Maybe it was because Dean had seen their mother die? Sam doubted there was anything worse, unless it was your wife or girlfriend. No, probably not even then.

The girl turned around to look at him again. Sam smiled. She did not return it, but he thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes before she turned away. He snapped his laptop closed and moved over by the bed.

"Do you mind if I watch with you?" he asked.

She did not look at him, but she scooted over on the bed. Sam sat next to her, not close enough to touch but close enough to be felt. When the next cartoon started she shifted closer to him. Sam sat perfectly still.

"I've never seen this one. Have you?" That vacant gaze was his only answer, but he was starting to understand. It was the only answer she could give right now. Who else could possibly understand what she had seen? What family other than the screwed up Winchesters would be able to handle something like this? Sam wished he had been older so he could remember what Dad did for Dean. In Dad's journal, Sam had read the early pages so many times he practically had them memorized. Dean quit speaking after Mom died. Correction – after he saw Mom die. But what exactly Dad did to pull Dean from cowering inside that shell into the swaggering tower of self-confidence that is Dean Winchester, Sam had no idea. So he sat watching cartoons. But the whole idea was still absurd. They had a demon to destroy.

The door opened and Dean entered under a mound of plastic bags. Sam jumped up to help him. "Hey! I'm back!" he called out. "Got the clothes and stuff I promised!"

Sam peered into one of the bags. Sure enough, there was little girl underwear and socks. The next bag was full of clothes, as was the bag after that and the bag after that. "Dean, how much money did you spend?"

"It's my money. Doesn't matter." Dean sniffed.

"Dean?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little over two hundred."

Sam looked into the next few bags. "A little?"

"Okay, three hundred."

The last bags were full of toys. There were stuffed animals, coloring books, crayons, blank paper, and lots of things that made noise. "Dean?"

"Fine. Four hundred."

"How could you possibly pick out all this…" Sam's voice trailed off. "You had help, didn't you?"

"I picked out all the toys myself," Dean replied proudly.

"Yes. I'm sure you did." Sam caught Dean's eye. "You do know she's going to grow out of all this before you can turn around twice?"

"Nah. There are lots of different sizes in there. I had them give me a variety." Dean beamed.

Sam shook his head, his long bangs shaking. "Dude. I don't think that's the way it works."

Dean looked hurt. "Oh? Like you would know?"

"Well, no, but…"

"And who do you think shopped for all your clothes growing up, princess? Well, okay, most of the time it was Dad, but all the really cool stuff was me. All me." His thumb pounded into his chest.

They were distracted by a whine. Dean and Sam whirled around. The girl was crying.

"Rae?" Dean's voice was soft and gentle. He knelt by her, wrapping his arms around her but not drawing her in close. "Hey, we're sorry. But we're brothers. We argue all the time. It doesn't mean anything, right Sam?" Dean glanced up at his younger brother.

Sam shook his head. "Dean's right. It doesn't mean anything. We'll always be family, no matter what."

"That's right," Dean brushed the hair out of her face, "no matter what." His face brightened. "Want to see some really cool toys that will annoy Uncle Sam?"

She showed no interest in the toys that made noise, to Dean's obvious disappointment. But when he brought out the paper and crayons, she practically snatched them from his hands. While she colored, Dean removed tags from the new clothing and packed them into a new bright pink backpack. It looked large enough to put Rae in as well, but Sam did not comment. When he was done, he checked on the girl who was still coloring away. Then he pulled up a chair beside Sam.

"Find anything?" he asked quietly, indicating the laptop.

"Not really," Sam admitted, running a hand through his mop of hair. "Dean, I've tried everything I could think of. I've hacked into the local police computers, state police, FBI, you name it. The whole family is listed as missing, but no next of kin. Apparently they were reported as missing by the park rangers when they failed to check in after their camping permit expired." Sam shrugged. "I hate to admit it, but I'm stumped."

"That's okay. She can stay with us for a while." Dean was watching her color.

"No, she can't, Dean." Sam knew this was a really, really bad idea. "You know what it's like. How we grew up."

Dean's cold green eyes turned on him. "Yes, I do." His voice was soft, the way it usually was just before his fists started swinging.

"Dean, all I'm saying is-"

"I know what you're saying! You've been saying it for ten years!" Dean's voice was a low, menacing growl.

"Dean," Sam shot an elbow into his brother's ribs. Rae was watching them intently, silent tears coursing down her face.

Dean sighed. "I guess we need to watch when we argue. At least for a while." He moved over to sit beside her. "What are you working on here?"

Dean picked up her paper. His eyes widened and he turned it around to show to Sam. "Does this look like what I think it looks like?" he asked.

Sam looked at the pink page. On it were three figures. The tallest one had brown hair that covered most of his face. The next one in size had about the same hair color, but it was short and spiky and he wore a blue jacket. The third figure stood between the first two and was much smaller than the other two, reaching maybe to their knees, with long arms. Those long arms reached all the way up to hold hands with the tall man on either side.

"It's very good," Sam replied softly. He looked directly at Rae's tear-stained face. "You did a good job."

She did not look back, her eyes had that distant, vacant stare again. But the tears had stopped and Sam knew, somewhere deep inside that shell, hid a little girl looking for a way back.

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Sam figured he spent more time apologizing than sleeping at night. Rae woke up constantly during the night, screaming. Not that he could blame her, of course. The poor kid had been through more than anyone should, ever. But by the end of the week, the three of them were short-tempered and sported blood-shot eyes. Rae was crying constantly because Sam and Dean were consistently sniping at each other. That was the evening Sam realized that this girl had indeed become part of their family, whether he thought it was a good idea or not.

Dean had changed into a large gray t-shirt and baggy black boxers for bed. He helped Rae put on her princess nightgown and supervised the teeth brushing. Then he pulled out a storybook and patted the bed beside him.

"Come here. I'm going to read to you."

Sam left them to it as he prepared for bed. When he came out of the bathroom, his brother and the girl were both sound asleep in Dean's bed. She was snuggled up against Dean's side, her head on his shoulder. The sight was both so natural and unexpected Sam just froze. When he realized that he was staring, Sam forced himself to go to bed. As exhausted as he was, it was not difficult.

He woke in the morning with the wonderful sense of a good night's sleep. Sam had forgotten what that felt like. No disturbing dreams. No screams at two, three and four am. Sam stretched muscles weary with sleep, enjoying the feeling. When he glanced over at his brother's bed, he noticed Dean was sleeping on his side. Sam stood, fully intending to harass his brother before making a donut and coffee run. After seeing how his brother was sleeping, he thought better of it. Dean was on his side, protectively curled around Rae. One arm clutched her to his chest while the other was thrust under his head and pillow, his hand undoubtedly close to his hunting knife. Even in sleep she was clinging to his arm and her face was not vacant, it was peaceful.

Sam slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb its sleeping occupants. When he returned with two coffees, a bag of donuts, a bag of donut holes, and a small bottle of milk, Rae was watching cartoons and Dean was face-down on the bed.

"Hey, Dean! Coffee!"

"Thank God," came the pillow-muffled reply. Dean rolled over slowly, one hand reaching into the air. Sam pressed the cup into his outstretched hand. "You're a lifesaver." Dean rewarded him with a sleepy smile.

"So, how did you sleep?" Dean asked, swinging his feet down to the floor and rubbing a hand over his hair.

"Like a log. You?" Sam offered Dean some donuts.

"Better," Dean admitted. "She still woke up a few times, but at least there wasn't all that screaming."

"So…what? She'd wake up scared, realize you were there, and fall back asleep?" Sam crammed a donut in his mouth.

"Not exactly. She'd wake up then wake me up. Once she could see I was awake, and I guess alive, she'd just drop back off to sleep. Of course, I'd be up for a while." Dean sighed, sipping his coffee. He shook his head. "Don't know how Dad did it."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, reaching into the bag for another donut.

"There were two of us, Sammy," Dean spotted the milk and donut holes. He opened the small bottle and set it on the floor in front of Rae. "Okay, you were a baby, but that just meant that you needed more care. And I was four. I know I had some terrible nightmares." He opened the bag of donut holes and set them in front of Rae, too. Then Dean returned to face his brother. "I just don't see how he did it. Without just losing it, you know?"

"Think that's why he drank so much?" Sam asked, unable to stop himself.

Instead of getting mad, Dean just shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe." He rubbed his free hand down his face. His eyes met Sam's over his coffee cup. "We need a new gig."

"What?"

"I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here. Let's find a new gig." Dean grinned. "Come on, Sammy. You know you want to."

"But what about…" Sam's eyes drifted to little Rae. Her milk was half gone and one hand was inside the bag of donut holes.

"No problem. Between the two of us, she'll be fine." Dean waved a hand in a manner Sam assumed was supposed to be reassuring.

"Dean, this has got to be the stupidest idea you've ever had. Including the waitress in Tampa."

"Dude. That's harsh." He waved at the laptop. "Just look for another gig."

Sam grudgingly opened his laptop and connected to the same open wireless network as before. As he searched for the unusual, his mind replayed their earlier conversation.

"Dean?" Mysterious deaths in Wichita. Wild wolf blamed.

"Yeah?"

"What nightmares?" Three families disappear after attending revival in Topeka.

"Huh?"

"You said you know you had nightmares after Mom died. What kind of nightmares?" Four deaths due to wild animal attacks. Oddly, all four only days prior to their deaths reported sightings of a black dog.

Dean looked disgruntled. "Did I say that?" He shrugged. "It was nothing."

Rae abandoned her cartoons. She walked over to Dean and leaned on his knee, peering up into his face. She patted his leg with one hand, her face intense instead of the vacant stare it usually held.

"What the?" Dean looked to Sam as though he would have all the answers.

"Maybe she wants to know about the kinds of nightmares you had," Sam suggested. He thought if Dean would talk about it, it might be therapeutic for both.

Dean scratched the back of his head, his face scrunched with discomfort. "Well," he looked down into the girl's face and visibly melted. He sighed, picked her up and settled her on his lap. "Okay. Here goes. And I've never told anyone about this, ever. Got that Sammy?"

Sam nodded, though he was not sure if Dean was addressing him or the girl.

"And after I tell you, we drop it. No question and answer time, right?" His green eyes bored into Sam. There was no doubt who Dean was referring to this time. Sam nodded again.

"Good." Dean looked at Rae instead of Sam, though. After all, it was obvious she was the only reason he was doing this. "My Mom was, uh, killed in a fire. My Dad sent me out of the house with Sam over there. I had to carry him out of the fire. But before we left, I saw her," he swallowed hard, "burning. For a long time after that I dreamed about her burning, my dad burning, Sammy, uh, Uncle Sam that is, burning. I remember that I would get so scared I'd crawl into Sam's bed, just to make sure he was okay." Dean gave her a soft smile. "But those nightmares were just bad dreams, they were not real. And one day they just stopped," Dean snapped his fingers, "just like that. Okay?"

Rae's face betrayed nothing of what might be happening under her stoic exterior. She hugged him around the neck then clambered down to watch cartoons again.

"She should be in school," Sam remarked idly, watching her sit vacantly in front of the Transformers.

Dean snorted. "Why? So she can stare down all her teachers? She has too much to deal with right now, Sam. School can wait."

Sam opened a new search window. Maybe he could locate some school records or something. Surely her parents had her enrolled in school. A news headline popped up.

'Child Missing in Woods Found. Returned to Family Attorney.' Curious, Sam opened the news story. It claimed that Clementine McDermot, daughter of self-made business entrepreneur James McDermot, had been found and returned home. The attorney, apparently the executor of the McDermot estate, was quoted as saying he was so relieved the child had been found and looked forward to many years of caring for her as her legal guardian.

"Dean? I think I found something strange." Sam pointed out the news article. As Dean read it, his countenance darkened.

"It's not our usual gig," he muttered, "but it might do."

TBC...


	2. Ch2 Motives

Thanks for all the generous reviews! Not quite sure why this chapter ends the way it does, but I'm expecting some spirits to make an appearance in the next chapter.

**Chapter 2 - Motives**

Dean packed the car with a vengeance. Sam dared not stand in his way. Even Rae moved behind him a couple of times when Dean stormed back into the room to collect another bag or do a sweep for loose toys and books. Finally satisfied that he had everything packed, Dean turned his eyes on them. "Well? What are you waiting for? We going or not?"

Sam felt thin, warm fingers slip into his hand as he left the room. Rae did not look up at him, but he felt somehow privileged to be trusted. He was about to put her into the backseat when he spotted something. There, in the center of the front seat, were the two halves of a lapbelt. Curious, Sam ducked his head into the back to examine the bottom of the seat. Sure enough, a lap belt had been bolted to the bottom of the seat. Grinning, Sam set Rae in the center and belted her in. Apparently his brother was taking this even more seriously than he expected.

"What are you grinning at?" Dean snapped as he started the car. The roar of the motor drowned out anything Sam might have said, so he just shook his head and looked out the window.

Dean popped in one of his Zepplin tapes and tapped his fingers in rhythm to the music as he drove. After an hour Rae started to fidget.

"Sam? I think she's bored. Grab a coloring book and that box of crayons off the back seat?" His eyes were glued to the road.

Sam doubted Dean would have been able to reach the items easily anyway. He handed them over to Rae. She flipped through the book for a while until she found a picture that interested her. Then she concentrated on covering it up completely with black and purple. He snagged a red crayon out of the box and colored in one corner. When she did not respond, he moved down to color in the bottom corner. As he put the crayon to paper this time, she snatched it out of his hand. Rae put it back in the box and selected another color, dark green. Without looking up, she pressed the fresh crayon into his hand.

"Thank you," Sam said as he colored.

"For what?" Dean asked.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Dean glanced down at the coloring party. "Oh." The car was silent again except for Metallica blasting from the speakers. "This looks like the town," Dean said as they blew past a sign welcoming them to Burkitsville.

"Got an address?"

"Yep," Sam pulled out a page size map. "I even have directions."

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The house was huge. There was no denying that. Dean let out a low whistle. They were parked across the street surveying the area. Her house was the largest on this street, three stories and large enough to fill four or five average house lots. A black iron fence ringed the property.

"I'll bet the foyer is bigger than our last motel room," he said in a hushed voice.

"Could be," Sam agreed. "So, where do you want to start? Neighbors?" Sam opened the glove compartment and rifled through their collection of fake IDs. "Here we go, reporters for the Chicago Sun."

"Chicago?" Dean asked as he accepted the ID.

"We'll tell them it made national news," Sam replied, putting the box away. "But what about her?"

"We take Rae with us," Dean replied, opening his car door.

"And what if someone recognizes her?" Sam demanded.

"Then we know she's really," he shuddered, "Clementine."

Sam actually doubted anyone would recognize her anyway. Vacant stares and lack of personality had that affect on people. Dean pulled out a nice button down shirt to go over his t-shirt and selected a sport jacket from the back seat. Sam did pretty much the same, except he removed his colored t-shirt first. They both put on black ties. Those black ties worked well with so many of their identities. Then they both got back inside the car and Dean drove to a neighboring house.

Sam knocked on the door while Dean stood back, Rae gripping his hand tightly.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. We are reporters with the Chicago Sun," Sam flipped the fake ID, "doing some background research on the McDermot story. We were wondering if you could spare us a few minutes of your time?" He flashed his most winning smile, confident that his brother behind him was doing the same.

It worked. It usually did, especially with women. The woman was older, probably in her sixties, and delighted at the prospect of two young men asking her questions and listening to her talk. She invited them inside.

"And who is this?" She bent down to examine Rae. Rae darted behind Dean's legs.

"Uh," Dean chuckled, "you'll have to excuse her. She's really shy around strangers."

The woman led them to her sitting room. "I would think if she travels around with you, she would be used to it by now."

"Yeah, well," Dean took a seat and Rae leapt into his lap, burying her face in his shoulder, "she usually doesn't. But recently her mother, uh," Dean put his hands over the child's ears to whisper, "was murdered." He took his hands away as the woman's eyes grew with shock. "Since then, she hasn't let me out of her sight."

Well, it was half-true, anyway. "Miss, um?"

"Uh, Kelly. Mrs Kelly." She looked startled that Sam was speaking to her, as though she had forgotten he was in the room.

"Mrs. Kelly, could you tell us a little about the McDermots?"

She rattled on for two straight hours about her neighbors. They were so happy, so friendly, had the most wonderful child. The kinds of things people always say about the deceased.

"Mrs. Kelly? One question?" Dean waved a hand to get her attention. "I didn't think that it was reported that the McDermots were dead. Why are you talking about them as if they were?"

Sam noticed Rae clung tighter to Dean as he asked. Dean rubbed one hand across her back, his focus on Mrs. Kelly and getting an answer.

Mrs. Kelly wrung her hands. "Well, it was all just so terrible, wasn't it? Their attorney, and I don't care for that man, he popped over this morning to tell me the news. Apparently they were," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "mauled by a bear." She nodded her head sadly at Sam's feigned shock.

"Sometimes those type of things don't leave much to, um, identify." Was Dean actually trying to choose his words carefully? "How did they…?"

"Oh. They found his wallet on the, you know." She nodded at the child in Dean's arms.

"And the girl?" Sam prodded.

"They found her close by, apparently just wandering in the woods." Mrs. Kelly shook her head. "Poor little thing."

"And that's how they identified her? Because she was in the area?" Sam asked, his suspicions rising.

Mrs. Kelly shrugged. "Well, who else could it be?"

As they walked back out to the car, Dean gave Sam a strong look. "Yeah, who else could it be?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but I have a feeling we're going to find out."

"I want to talk to this attorney guy," Dean growled as he buckled in Rae. "A nice, long chat."

Sam gave Dean his best 'don't go there' looks. "Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. You can hold my gun while I'm talking to him." Dean fired up the Impala.

"Maybe we should talk to some more of the neighbors." Sam pointed at the house across the street.

"Yeah. Maybe." Dean backed out to pull into the other driveway.

They tried two more neighbors, getting two more versions of the exact same story. The McDermots were a wonderful, successful family who met a tragic end; mauled by a bear. The daughter was found wandering the woods and would be back home any day now.

"What I want to know is, where the hell did this guy get a girl to pose as the daughter?" Dean started the car, its throaty motor roaring to life.

"We don't actually know that he did, Dean. Maybe the other girl really is the McDermot girl." Sam reasoned.

"What about Rae?" Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged. "The Wendingo could have found her out by herself, or maybe she was taken with another family whose disappearance has not been reported yet."

"That's an awful big maybe, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam rubbed his hands on his pants.

"And it doesn't explain how they found McDermot's wallet next to the body when it's in the trunk." Dean backed out of the driveway.

Oh, yeah. Sam had forgotten about that.

------------------------------

Dean actually did not choose the absolute cheapest motel in town, for a change. It smelled like someone might have cleaned it recently, all the tiny shampoo bottles were full and there were plenty of fresh towels in the bathroom. And, even more surprising, when the three of them walked in to register for a room, the desk clerk assumed they needed two beds and a trundle.

Dean was whistling an AC/DC tune as he set up all of Rae's toys in one corner. Satisfied, he tossed his nice white shirt over the sport coat on the table and flopped onto the bed.

"I'm telling you, Sam. There is definitely something strange going on here."

Sam sat on the side of his bed. "I think you're right, Dean. It just doesn't add up." Something was still nagging at him. He grabbed his laptop and set it up on the table. "I'm going to look something up." His eyes peered at Dean over the laptop. "You can take a nap if you want."

"Already ahead of you, Sammy." Dean's eyes were closed and his breathing slowing.

Sam noticed that Rae's head turned when Dean said 'Sammy.' When Dean did not say anything else, she went back to her coloring books. Sam pulled up some of his favorite legal websites for his research.

After an hour, Sam thought he had found his answer. "Dean!"

Dean bolted upright, one hand searching under his pillow.

"Don't bother, it's not there. Listen, I think I found it." Sam pointed to his screen. "I know why the attorney needed a Clementine."

Dean shuddered again as he pulled his hand out from under his pillow. "Who in their right minds?" He looked around for where he left the hunting knife.

"Just listen. The McDermots were a fairly young couple, right? And very successful. They may not have drawn up wills, thinking it wasn't necessary yet. If that's the case, then everything falls to their daughter, Clementine. And without any family to claim her, if the attorney becomes her legal guardian then he would have control of the entire estate, at least until she's twenty-one."

Dean stared at Sam for a long minute. "Not eighteen?"

"Not in this state," Sam replied. "Already checked."

"And if she didn't survive?" Dean rubbed a hand over his head.

"Then the estate becomes property of the state," Sam finished triumphantly.

"Well, that's motive." Dean leaned forward, his face in his hands. When he looked up, he was yawning. "Find anything on where the girl he's using is?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. But I did find that she's coming home tonight."

Dean nodded. "Under the cover of darkness. Figures." Dean stood and stretched. "You know, between the Wendingo and the attorney, if her parents don't come back as vengeful spirits I'll be shocked." He was rummaging in his duffel. "Where the hell is my knife?"

"Dean!" Sam looked down at the girl.

"What?" Dean glanced down at her. "Oh, yeah. She should probably take a nap now if we're going to be up late. Come on, Rae."

"That's not what I meant, Dean." Sam gave his brother a disapproving glare.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "But do you want to bet that we see some flickering lights after the fake Clementine comes home tonight?" He lifted Rae onto the bed. Sam declined to answer, just shaking his head. "Do you know where my knife is?"

Sam reached across the table to grab the leather sheathed knife. He tossed it to his brother who caught it one-handed and stuffed it under his pillow.

"Some people just need teddy bears," Sam commented, instantly regretting it as Dean gave him a good, long look.

"Sam, you look terrible. Why don't you grab a little shut-eye? Need you sharp to watch my back." When Sam did not move, Dean gave him a strong look and nodded at the other bed. "Go on."

With a sigh, Sam sat on the bed. Suddenly he felt like he was ten years old being told to go to bed by his brother while Dad was out on a hunt. He wanted to refuse, to shout that he was an adult and did not need a nap. Instead he settled back on the bed, more from habit than fatigue.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Who read to me when I was little?" Sam stared up at the ceiling, avoiding any odd looks that might come over his brother's face. There was an interesting swirl pattern done in the paint.

"Who read to you?" Dean was quiet for a moment. Sam knew his brother was stalling so he stayed quiet, unwilling to give Dean any excuse for not answering. "Well, Dad did when he was around. After I learned to read, we read together every night. Then you got better at it than me, so I quit reading to you."

Sam let that sink in. "I wondered why you quit. Did Dad quit because I could read myself?" There were a few discolored areas in the far corner. Might be a water leak.

"Probably." Dean chuckled. "Or you might have told him not read to you anymore. I don't remember. You were always a pretty stubborn kid. And independent."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. If those yellow stains indicated a water leak, have they already fixed it, or did they not know about it? And why did he care? So he would not have to think about the fact the reason he and Dad did not get along was as much his fault as Dad's? Oh – look – every other swirl goes in the opposite direction.

Sam's eyelids grew heavy, despite his ceiling fascination.

TBC...


	3. Ch3 Flickering Lights

Thanks for all the kind reviews!

**Chapter 3: Flickering Lights**

The Impala prowled the ritzy neighborhood like a fierce jungle cat pacing inside a small zoo cage. The throaty motor seemed to complain as Dean turned the key, shutting it off. Dean let out a long breath.

"Want to wait a while or should we scout out the house?" he asked, peering through the windshield at what could only be described as a mansion. "What?" he asked, looking down at Rae.

She was clinging to Dean's arm and staring at the house.

"Dean? She's shaking!" Sam watched the small body shuddering between them.

"What the hell?" Dean grabbed her shoulders, trying to hold her still. Sam fumbled with the seat belt, finally releasing it. "Rae? Rae! What is it?" Sam recognized the demanding tone in Dean's voice; it was the same voice he used to break into Sam's visions. Thank God for that.

Rae was not responding, just staring out the window. But it was not the blank, vacant stare she had worn since Dean rescued her. Her eyes were focused just beyond the car, white lips pressed tightly together, skin pale, and droplets of sweat appeared across her forehead, plastering her light brown hair to her skin.

"Rae! What is it!" Dean looked desperately to Sam.

Sam followed Rae's gaze out the window. "Dean? I think you're right. She is Clementine."

"What? Why?" Dean looked around wildly. "What do you see?"

"Right there, Dean." Sam pointed out the window. "Her parents." He felt oddly calm. There was a sense of safety and comfort.

"I don't see anything, Sam," Dean said, his voice hushed.

The couple faded into nothingness. "They're gone now," Sam replied. "I think they just wanted to be sure she was okay." He patted Rae's knee, hoping to comfort her.

"Look," Dean saw something now. "The house. All the lights are flickering. Let's get the shotguns."

"No, Dean." Sam shook his head.

"What? What are you talking about?" Dean was still holding the girl's shoulders but looking at Sam.

"Dean. You can't shoot her parents!" Sam heard his voice reverberate in the car. He instantly felt bad for shouting in front of the girl.

"It's not like it will hurt them!" Dean snapped. "They're just spirits." His breath caught. Rae was staring up at him with tearful eyes. "Oh, Rae, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that…" he took a deep breath. "No shotguns. Okay? I promise, no shotguns."

A few tears trickled down her face, but she reached up to wrap her arms around Dean's neck. When she let go, she turned to Sam and hugged him as well.

"I need to get a few things out of the trunk," Dean said in a shaky voice. He jumped out of the car as if the seat had a hot plate installed in it.

Sam leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You know he won't let anything happen to you, right?" She turned her wide, tearful eyes on him. "And I won't either." He smiled at her. She leaned against him, her breathing rapid. Sam rubbed her shoulder hoping she would settle down soon, although he could not see how if they were planning to go up to the house.

Dean's face appeared in the window. "How is she?"

Sam shrugged. "Better, I guess." She was not crying or shaking anymore.

"Good." Dean looked at Rae. "Ready to check it out?"

Rae held out her arms to Dean through the open window. With a grin, he lifted her out. She clung to her neck, refusing to be let down. Dean shot Sam a look and shrug over the car. Sam shook his head, chuckling to himself. He had never pictured Dean as a Dad, but Dean actually seemed to fit the bill pretty well. As he followed them to the iron fence, Sam's thoughts drifted to the fact that Dean had been the parent he always craved.

Sam shook off the unwanted thoughts as he helped boost Rae over the fence into Dean's waiting arms. After Dean caught her, Sam climbed over. "What?" he whispered, "don't you want to catch me, too?"

"Shut up!" Dean hissed back, searching for shadows to hide in. Rae was following close in tow, their hands clasped together. Sam brought up the rear, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that moved.

Dean paused beneath a window with open curtains. He peered inside for a few moments before boosting Rae up to look. Sam noticed Dean whispered something in Rae's ear that he could not catch. Rae's vacant stare was back, but she did manage to nod in response to Dean's whispers. Dean made a motion to Sam that meant Sam should go the other way around to look for a weak point in the security.

Sam turned around to look for another way in. He searched along his side of the house. He was just starting to think that there was no way around security when he noticed the lights flashing on and off. Sam reasoned that the electricity outages caused by the angered spirits of Rae's – er, Clementine's- parents would wreak havoc with the security systems. Sam's cell phone went off at that moment.

"Yeah?"

"I think the spirits are giving us a way in," Dean's voice crackled through the heavy static.

"I was just thinking the same thing. Meet you inside?"

"See ya," and the line dropped. Sam wondered briefly how he would find them if their phones could not be relied on. He whipped out his pocketknife to pry open the lock on the next window. Sam slipped inside, closing the window behind him.

He looked around the room. Large wooden bookshelves lined two walls filled with books bearing business-related titles. The smell of furniture polish clung to the air. A huge mahogany desk stood between Sam and the door. As he maneuvered around it in the semi-dark, an open file caught his eye. Sam whipped out a small penlight to investigate. The file contained pages of children available for foster care along with pictures. Disgusted, Sam stuffed the folder under his shirt. The door opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges, the brass handle cool to the touch.

He crept into the hallway, his sneakers true to their name. Ears pricked for the slightest sound, Sam began his search for his brother and the girl. Light kept flickering from different rooms, but a lifetime of dealing with the supernatural made it possible for Sam to keep focused.

The echo of a bellowing voice reached his ears. "I want these lights fixed! What the hell is going on here? Where is that electrician?"

"I don't know sir," a woman's voice answered. Sam froze to listen. "I called the electrician half an hour ago."

"Call again or I'll find someone who can!" The man's voice was harsh. Sam mentally compared it with Dean's voice. But the only time Dean sounded anything remotely similar to that was when he was ready to destroy something that was killing people. There was no real comparison there. Sam kept close to the wall as he made his way toward the other side of the house. The lights flickered viciously as he passed a doorway. Once he was past it, the lights went back to normal. Confused, Sam stepped back. The lights flashed again. He moved away until the lights stopped flashing.

Deciding it was worth the risk, Sam pulled out his cell phone. He hit the call key, knowing his last twenty calls were all to his brother's phone. Dean picked up on the second ring.

"Yeah? What?" he sounded aggravated.

"I think I found where her parents want us to look," Sam whispered into his phone.

"Where are you?"

"In a hallway," Sam whispered, glancing around. "I was trying to head toward your side of the house."

"Same here. Hang on," he heard some movement on the other end. "What kind of room did you get in through?"

"I looked like an office or study," Sam whispered. "Big desk and a couple of walls with bookshelves."

"Got it. Hang on." There was some whispering that Sam could not make out. "We're headed your way. Stay put." The line went dead. Sam sighed at the phone in his hand before slipping it into a pocket. He reached into his back waistband to retrieve his handgun.

Dean's boots were not as quiet as sneakers, so Sam could hear them coming down the hall. He lifted his gun in case the source was not his brother. Dean followed an outstretched gun around the corner. With a small nod of recognition, they both lowered their guns. Dean reached back to lead Rae around the corner. She looked small and frightened, which was a definite improvement over her usual vacant stare.

"Which door?" Dean hissed, Rae in close tow.

Sam stepped in front of the door. The lights flickered frantically. Sam put his hand on the doorknob.

TBC…Behind Closed Doors


	4. Ch4 Behind Closed Doors

Thanks for all the kind and generous reviews.

**Chapter 4 – Behind Closed Doors**

The door swung open and a blast of cold air washed over them. Sam stepped inside, glancing around. It was an office, half the size of the study he had broken into. There were bookshelves here too but they looked cheaper, less ornate. The books stored here were more familiar to Sam, they were legal texts. He ran a finger along some of the spines, briefly regretting the fact he could never have a legitimate life.

"Sam!" Dean's hushed voice came from behind the desk. Sam spun around, guilty in his thoughts. Dean motioned to him impatiently. He wanted Sam to search the computer while he went through the files.

Sam sat behind the desk. The computer was passworded. He started his usual routine for decrypting the password as Dean rifled through the desk.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Sam reached under his shirt for the folder. "Here," he handed it over.

Dean flipped through it. "This guy is definitely bad news."

Sam gave him an absent nod as he worked on cracking the password. This could take a while. There was a nudge on his shoulder. Sam looked up. Dean was pointing at the bookshelf.

Sam turned his head. One of the books in the shelf was wriggling out of place. Sam lifted his eyebrows. When he reached out to grasp it, the volume slid smoothly into his hand. He heard Dean mutter something, but paid no attention. Sam set the book down on the desk. He opened it to a random page. Another breeze blew through the room, chilling him to the bone. The pages flipped back and forth in a random manner then, as suddenly as it began, the arctic breeze and animated pages stopped. A word was underlined in red on the page. Sam pursed his lips as he typed in the word. Access denied. Not to be put off, he tried the word again followed by the page number. Bingo.

"There must be something important in here," Sam said softly. He looked through all the documents but nothing caught his eye. Typically he was looking for the motive of a spirit, not someone still living. But perhaps it was not so different after all. This file looked interesting. Sam opened it and was not disappointed.

"Dean? Look at this." Sam pointed to the screen. "It's research on places people have mysteriously vanished."

"Yeah, so? Looks like something we'd put together," Dean said, leaning over his shoulder.

"But why would anyone here?" Sam demanded, his brain working faster than his mouth. "It's almost as if he were looking for," he paused. The park where the McDermots met the Wendingo was on this list. Sam pointed it out. "That."

Dean frowned. "So you think this guy planned all this? To get his hands on their money?"

"McDermot was an entrepreneur. He probably wanted to take over the business, too. Keep making the money." Sam sighed, shaking his head. "I'm starting to agree with you. People are just crazy."

Dean smirked at him. "Told ya. Looks like Wendingo Park was third on the list. Anyway we can find out if he sent them to the first two places?"

Sam's fingers danced across the keyboard. Flight confirmations to the first two locations were saved in a folder marked Itinerary. He opened the folder to discover that they were also booked to visit the next three places on the list as well. "Take a look," Sam gestured.

Dean shook his head. "Print out that list. Looks like we need to check some of those out."

Sam shot his brother an incredulous look, but he sent the file to the printer. Dean snagged the page off, folded and stuffed it into his pocket. He nodded to the door. "Let's see if we can find this kid, ask her what's going on."

Sam cringed, but he followed. Rae was clinging to Dean's back pockets as they slipped through the hall. They were headed back the way Sam came. An idea occurred to Sam. He tapped Dean on the shoulder.

Dean spun around, gun raised. Rae was knocked into the wall behind him. "Damn it!" he reached down to pick her up. Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not cry.

"What?" Dean demanded, his voice low.

"They called for an electrician," Sam whispered. "I just thought maybe…"

Dean nodded. He looked down at Rae. "You better do it. We'll wait here for a little while then head back to the car."

Sam nodded. He slipped the gun back into his waistband as he headed toward the place he had heard voices earlier. Dean would stay until he was certain Sam's story was accepted, then head outside to watch for the real electrician.

"Hello! Electrician! Hello!" Sam called out, searching for living people. "Anybody here?"

"Who are you?" A man's voice demanded from ahead. Sam hurried toward the source of the voice.

"Did you call for an electrician?" Sam asked, stepping out of the hallway into a broad foyer. Dean was right, their motel room would fit in here with space to spare.

"It's about time!" A large man with a red face shouted at him. "Wait a minute! How did you get in here?"

"I, uh, tried the doorbell but no one answered. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in." It sounded plausible. "I've been looking for somebody for at least ten minutes. This place is huge!"

"That damn housekeeper. Don't know why I keep her around," he muttered. "Obviously if we're having electric problems you shouldn't expect the doorbell to work. You should have knocked!" The man's face was growing redder. His size and demeanor suggested that he was used to getting his own way, even when he worked for others.

"Yes, sir," Sam tried to look shame-faced, as though that idea would have never occurred to him. He shifted under his light plaid shirt, taking some comfort in the cool metal pressed against his spine.

"Liza!" The man bellowed. A woman rushed onto the open balcony upstairs.

"Yes, Mister Dolan?" She appeared breathless. Sam could see the fear in her tense face.

"Your electrician finally arrived. Show him to the breaker box." The red faced man, Mister Dolan, waved his hand at her dismissively before disappearing into an upstairs hallway. Even without the circumstantial evidence he and Dean had recovered, Sam felt ire for Dolan rising. He understood why Mrs. Kelley did not care for that man.

Liza rushed down the stairs toward Sam as quickly as her rotund figure would allow. She gestured frantically for Sam to follow her. They passed through several corridors before reaching the kitchen. Just behind the kitchen was a storage room.

"Here it is," she said softly, looking back over her shoulder.

"Why do you work here if he scares you like that?" Sam asked as he removed the breaker box cover. Thanks to his rather warped upbringing and the numerous roles they were forced to play, Sam did know a little bit about how houses were wired and what to do in a breaker box. He flipped all the breaker switches off and back on again. The flashing lights in the house stopped.

Sam tried not to show his surprise that it worked. Perhaps the spirits were satisfied with the fact they had been able to make their point to the brothers, and their daughter was safe. He no longer doubted that Rae was really Clementine. The moment the spirits had appeared outside the car, Sam knew it was true. They were definitely not at rest, but perhaps they wanted to be.

Sam flashed his winning smile at Liza. "There ya go. Wish they were all this simple." Simple was salting and burning bones. This job was going to be anything but simple.

"I'll get Mister Dolan," Liza looked immensely relieved.

"Wait," Sam placed a restraining hand on her arm, "you didn't answer my question."

She paled. Her eyes darted back and forth, as though Dolan might step out of the shadows any moment. "I can't leave," she whispered. "He won't let me." Her eyes were wet with tears. "No one can help me. I'm damned."

Her choice of words shocked him. His hand tightened on her arm as his voice dropped to a whisper. "How can you be damned?"

She shook her head, pulling away from his grasp. "You need to be paid so you can leave. Quickly."

Sam released her, his confusion mounting. This case started out just a little odd, but it was definitely making that cross-over into weird. He had the feeling he needed to take Liza's advice, even though he had not found the Clementine imposter. It did not surprise him when Liza returned with a check, the "To" space left blank, and shoved him out the front door.

Sam returned to the Impala. Dean and Rae were waiting in the front seat.

"Any problems?" Dean asked as the motor roared to life.

"Nah. You?" Sam shot Dean a look which was intended to let him know that they needed to talk.

Dean gave him a curt nod in response. "Nothing I couldn't handle." So the real electrician did make it out, but Dean found a way of heading him off.

Sam glanced down at the girl. Rae was staring at the house and her expression was no longer vacant. She was obviously terrified. Sam was beginning to suspect that the Wendingo was not the only horror in her young life. He hoped her silence would not prove fatal – to any of them.

TBC…


	5. Ch5 Whispers and Lies

Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews!!  
**  
Ch5 Secrets and Lies**

Back at the motel, Rae shadowed Dean everywhere. It took ten minutes of coaxing before she would allow him to use the bathroom by himself. Even then, she only allowed it because Sam picked her up and held her the entire time.

"Sam?" Dean's voice echoed in the small bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"How is she doing? Can I shower?"

Sam looked down at the girl watching the bathroom door with an intensity beyond her years. "Go ahead!" he called out. She would have to get used to the fact Dean could not be with her every second. Sam carried her over to Dean's bed and sat down, holding Rae firmly in his lap. He clicked on the television which was still on one of the cartoon channels. She was facing the bathroom. Sam gently turned her head toward the television. He could only imagine what Burt, a friend who was a psyche major at Stanford, would say about Sam's solution. But it seemed to be working. As Rae watched the cartoon, he felt some of the tension ease from her small frame.

Sam pulled out his cell phone. Did he have Burt's number? That might be a call worth making. As he scrolled through his phone list, an image of Burt flashed through his mind: friendly, gregarious, stylish. Burt was one of the students who came from real money although he rarely acted like it. His father was an appellate court judge. Sam snapped the phone closed. The last thing they needed with the FBI on their trail was an appellate judge thinking they had kidnapped a child. A multiple murderer child kidnapper? Dean's face would be on wanted posters plastered across every city in the country. Sam shoved the phone into his pocket. So much for keeping in touch with the academic crowd.

Rae began to shake. Sam looked around swiftly, but he did not spot any spirits in the room. He looked at the television. Tom and Jerry was on and Tom had just lost one of his nine lives, a ghost image of Tom with a large 7 on it drifted away. Sam grabbed the remote and changed the channel. He rubbed his hands up and down Rae's arms until the shaking subsided. He was not sure what Lilo & Stitch was all about, but hopefully there were not any spirits in it.

Dean exited the bathroom with a towel wound around his waist and another draped over his shoulders. "Well?" he demanded.

"See for yourself," Sam replied, "she's fine."

Dean's only reply was a curt nod. He hurried to dress under his towel. After he pulled on a large t-shirt, he rubbed one of the towels over his head, effectively drying his short hair. "What are you waiting for? It's all yours," he told Sam, though his voice was calm this time.

Sam realized that Dean was already acting as though all of this were normal: just an ordinary, average day for the Winchesters. He did not really feel like showering, but thought he could use the time alone. As the hot water rushed over him, Sam wondered again what they would do with the girl. He tried to lose himself in the tiny pinpricks of heat, but the image of her face when she saw the spirits of her parents haunted him. He remembered seeing his mother's spirit, the only time in his life that he actually remembered her and not just stories of her. The water coursed over his head, forcing him to shut his eyes against it. He knew what that girl was feeling, but not as well as Dean did. Dean had seen Mom die, just as Rae had seen her parents die. Sam found himself wishing for a loofa as he scrubbed himself vigorously. What business did they have caring for a young girl? And how could they, in good conscience, turn her over to someone who could never possibly understand her? And when did Dean, his ass-kicking, demon-hunting, smart-mouthed brother turn into a responsible parent?

As Sam rubbed away the droplets still clinging to his skin with the worn but clean motel towels, he knew the answer to his last question. He did not want to admit it, least of all to Dean, but his brother had always been a responsible parent. Even when they were just kids, Dean had been the one who was always there for Sam whether Dad was around or not.

Sam tried to shake off his melancholy thoughts. Even though he and his Dad could not be in the same room for more than five minutes without starting a shouting match, he truly missed the old man. But he still had Dean. And now Dean had someone else to care for. Was that it? Was he jealous? Sam rubbed the towel over his head, trying to squeeze most of the excess water out. How could he be jealous of a six year old girl? That was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

He wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom. Dean and Rae were on his bed, sleeping. An open book rested on Dean's chest. Sam could not help the smile that crossed his face when he looked down at the two of them, so peaceful. He pulled on his sleepwear and climbed into bed. As he reached for the light, he heard a whisper.

"Sam?"

Sam turned. Dean's eyes were wide open, looking at him. "Yeah?"

"What did you want to tell me? About the house?" Rae was clutching his shirt even in sleep. There was no way for Dean to extricate himself without waking her.

Sam sat up. "There is something really strange going on there." Dean nodded. "The housekeeper told me she was damned. That she couldn't leave."

Dean's eyebrows went up. "Damned? She used the word damned?"

Sam nodded. "She also said Dolan would never let her leave."

"Who's Dolan?" Dean tried moving back, to sit up a little. Rae stirred, a grunt coming from her. Resigned to his current position, Dean sighed.

"That attorney. The one Mrs. Kelly doesn't like." Sam tried to comb through his wet hair with his fingers.

"The one who had to make sure there was a Clementine after all." Dean nodded.

"Right. So I guess the real electrician wasn't any trouble?" Sam asked, eyeing his pillow.

"Nah. Apparently he met that Dolan guy before. I think he was hoping we were going to rob the place," Dean said with a smirk. "Guess we need to hit the library tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam crawled into bed. "See if we can find anything else connected with that house, or Dolan."

"Right. Night, Sam."

Sam reached out to click off the light. "Night, Dean."

------------------------

Wisps of white clouds spotted a brilliant blue sky. Sam looked over. Jess was setting out a picnic lunch in front of the Stanford administrative building. He was lounging under a large oak tree, his LSAT prep book open in his lap.

"I could help with that," he offered, setting his studies aside.

"Don't you dare," Jess said with a light laugh. "You study. I want you to have the highest score they've ever seen."

He felt the mirth crinkle his eyes as he looked at her. "Our relationship isn't riding on that, is it?"

She stopped what she was doing to bend over and kiss him. "Maybe." Her head tilted at an odd angle. "Why Sam? Why did you do it?"

He felt his heart rate quicken. "Do what?"

"Let me die? Why didn't you warn me?" The blue sky overhead was gone, replaced by the bedroom ceiling. She was pinned to it, blood dripping down. He felt the warm drops on his face, oozing across his skin like warm water.

------------------------

No, Jessica! No!!

"Sam! Sam, wake up! Sammy!"

Words intruded on his nightmare. What were they saying? What was happening to Jessica? Jess!

"Sammy!" Hands shook his shoulders. His eyelids felt like heavy weights were holding them closed. "Sammy! Open your eyes!" But Jess was right there. If he could just reach out, take her off the ceiling, maybe he could still save her. "Sammy!"

Sam's eyes flew open. Dean, breathing hard, was standing over him. It was Dean's hands on his shoulders, shaking him. Sam took a deep breath, his eyes searching the ceiling wildly.

"She's not there, Sam," Dean's voice was soft this time. "She's gone." He heard Dean's heavy breathing and felt the bed shift as his brother sat next to him. One hand continued to rub his shoulder. "It was just a dream."

Sam stared up at the ceiling as the dream faded, replaced by his memories of the horrible reality. After a time, he was able to nod slowly. "I'm okay, Dean." He heard the shake in his own voice.

"Right." Dean did not sound like he believed it. "This about Jess again?"

Sam shook his head as he sat up. His hands were still trembling. A small face appeared between his knees. He stared at it, wondering, before remembering that they had a houseguest. She was looking up at him in earnest concern. Sam tried to give her a smile, but he feared he did not do too well. She did not smile, but she did pat his knee. Then she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tight. Sam patted her back in thanks. When she released him, she returned to sit on Dean's bed, watching them.

Dean smiled at her. "Quite a kid, huh?" he muttered to Sam.

"Yeah. I guess so." Sam still felt shaken. The dream had been too real, too close this time. It had not been that bad since Jess died.

"Well, looks like we're all up for the night." Dean stood and stretched. "Wonder if there are any good Gozilla movies on?" He reached for the remote as Rae bounced on the other bed.

------------------

Sam felt tugs on his arm. Did he fall asleep? He forced his eyes to open. Rae was standing there holding the television remote. She pointed to the set. A World War Two submarine movie was on. Sam took the remote and switched to one of the cartoon channels. She gave him a smile of thanks before plopping down in front of the set.

He looked at the other bed. Dean was sound asleep, propped up against the headboard. Sam shook his head, he could only imagine how sore Dean's neck would be after sleeping in that position. He thought about waking his brother, but it had been a long night. After his nightmare Rae had fallen asleep and woken up at least twice with nightmares of her own. Dean probably needed the sleep more than he and Rae did.

"Hey, kid," Sam said softly, trying not to wake his brother. "Want to go with me to get some donuts?" She did not respond. "Rae?" She turned around. "I asked if you wanted to go get some donuts."

A brilliant smile lit up her face and she rushed to the door. "You'd better get dressed first," Sam pointed out, reaching for his own clothes.

---------------------------

Rae was having a difficult time selecting the type of sprinkled donut she wanted when Sam's cell phone went off.

"Hey, Dean. You up?" Sam finally indicated to the woman behind the counter to give them the pink and the chocolate frosted with sprinkles.

"Yeah I'm up. Where the hell are you? Is Rae with you?" He could hear the edge of panic in his brother's voice.

"We're out getting donuts and coffee." He held up two fingers to indicate he needed two coffees to the lady serving him.

"You never heard of leaving a note!"

Sam chuckled into the phone. "Dude, you were out cold. I figured you'd still be asleep when we got back. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

There was some mumbling from the other end of the line. "Just don't forget the coffee." Then Dean hung up. Sam chuckled as he paid for their late breakfast and led Rae back out to the car.

------------------------

Rae sat in Dean's lap as he typed search words and phrases into the library computer. When Dean nodded his head at her, she pressed the enter button for him. She appeared delighted when a long list of results displayed. But when Dean started reading through the results, Rae's attention drifted. Dean pulled out a coloring book and six pack of crayons Sam did not see him bring and set them on the table beside the keyboard. Rae got to work.

"Anything yet?" Dean whispered to Sam at the next terminal.

"Maybe," Sam replied with a frown. He tapped his fingers on the particle board table. "I've found obituaries for three members of the McDermot staff all within the past year. They all sound like natural causes: heart attack, cancer, car wreck. But still, that's one heck of a coincidence."

"All in the past year?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Well, that's about the time our friend Mr. Dolan came to work for the McDermots. Apparently the first thing he tried to do was replace all the house staff, but the McDermots refused."

"How do you know that?" Sam shifted his chair to look at Dean's screen.

Dean pointed to the article. "Right here. Society gossip column."

Sam gave his brother a strong look. "And you're willing to believe a gossip column?"

Dean shrugged. "You got something better?"

"Excuse me," a woman's voice intruded on their conversation, "I just wanted to tell you that I think your daughter is one of the best behaved children I've ever seen in this library. You're doing a wonderful job with her." Her hair was platinum silver and curled around her round face like a portrait frame.

Dean smiled back. "Thank you. Her mother over here," he nodded to Sam, "and I do try." The smile broadened at the look of disgust as she pulled away from them.

"Dude!" Sam's face was hot and he was sure it was growing redder by the second.

"Busybodies," Dean snorted.

Dean's hand reached out to grab Sam's arm. Alarmed by the strength his brother was using, Sam looked around for FBI or SWAT. The library looked normal. He followed the direction of his brother's stare.

Rae was sitting next to them working on one of the pages in her coloring book. It was a fairy-tale coloring book and the page she worked on was a picture of a troll. Its eyes were solid black. Now she was amusing herself by drawing large Xs over the troll, again and again.

"Rae?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper, but she turned to look at him. His grip on Sam's arm tightened to an uncomfortable degree. "Who are you coloring with black eyes?"

She made a terrible face, like she had just taken a bite of a lemon.

Sam decided to try. "Rae, is that someone we saw last night?"

She nodded slowly.

"It is Mr. Dolan?" Dean asked, his grip on Sam's arm tightening to the point it would probably leave a bruise.

She nodded again, making the same terrible face. She returned to making her Xs. Dean released Sam's arm, much to Sam's relief, and knelt next to Rae. "Rae, did you ever see Mr. Dolan's eyes go all black?" He tapped the troll. "Just like that?"

She nodded again.

Sam rubbed his arm where he was certain a bruise was forming. "As if we didn't have enough problems already," he sighed.


	6. Ch6 Demon Motives & Girl Hair

Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Jessalyn-Laine requested the boys give Rae a bath, and this chapter was loosely based on that, even though the bath doesn't last very long.

**Ch6 – Demon Motives & Girl Hair  
**

"But Dean, it just doesn't make any sense," Sam protested for the hundredth time as he paced their motel room, occasionally kicking a toy out of his way. "Why would a demon want to take over a company? Demons don't care about money, do they?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, they do say it's the root of all evil, right? So why not?" He rested a hand on top of Rae's head, then jerked it back. "Eewww."

"What is it?" Sam jumped up, expecting to see ectoplasm or supernatural slime. Instead all he saw was dirty hair. "Dude, you really need to wash her hair."

"Huh? Why? What's in there?" Dean prodded her greasy hair with one finger.

"Oil. Dirt. It's what happens when you don't wash your hair." Sam felt like he was explaining it to a child. "Didn't you know that?"

"Uh. No." Dean wiped his fingers off on his shirt. "Rae?" She turned to look at Dean. "When you take a bath, are you washing your hair?"

Rae flashed him a winning smile before returning her attention to her cartoons. Sam smirked. She had only been around them for about a week but Rae was already picking up some of Dean's worse habits.

Dean switched off the television. "Rae. You need to go wash your hair. That's pretty disgusting."

She wrinkled her nose at them before switching the television back on. Dean watched with an open mouth. He turned to Sam.

Sam held up both hands and backed away. "Dude, don't look at me. You're the one who wants to adopt her." He chuckled as he sat on the edge of his bed.

Dean looked around, for once at a loss for what he should do. "Sam!" he hissed, moving close. "Come on! I don't know anything about girl hair!"

"Oh? I do? Why? Because of Jess?" Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"No!" Dean looked nearly ready to explode. "Because you have girl hair!"

Sam just shook his head. "It's not gonna work, Dean. Wash it at least twice with shampoo then use the conditioner."

Dean shook his head, burying his face in his hands. "I can't. It's not right."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam leaned forward.

Dean looked up suddenly. "I can wash her hair in the sink! That would work!" He grinned.

"Dean. Just do in the bathtub." Sam could not understand why this concept was so difficult.

"But I didn't buy her a bathing suit!" His eyes blazed with fury at Sam.

Sam leaned back, hoping he was out of his brother's reach. "But why would she need…" Oh. He didn't want to see her naked. Sam thought back over the past few days. Each time Rae was told to take a bath, Dean would fill the tub with water and then close the door after she went in. As long as she came out smelling better than she went in, Dean made no comment. Even if her nightgown stuck to her wet body, Dean said nothing.

"Dean. Remember when Dad gave us baths when we were little?" Sam was trying to sound reasonable. "You kinda have to see someone naked in order to give them a bath."

Dean sneered at Sam. "That's sick!"

"It's not sick, Dean! Ask her! Ask Rae!"

Dean's face went blank. "What did you say?"

"I said ask Rae if she thinks it's sick. It's what parents do, Dean." Sam felt like he may have missed his calling. He would have made an excellent professor, or life skills instructor.

"Ask Rae, huh?" Dean looked down at her, a real smile forming on his face. "Hear that, Rae? Uncle Sam wants me to give you a bath. What do you say?"

She shrugged, not looking away from her cartoons.

"Go get ready to take a bath, Rae," Dean was still smiling and looking at Sam when the girl turned off the television.

Sam was getting an uneasy feeling. What was up with all that smiling? "Something wrong, Dean?" he tried to keep his voice neutral, but Dean was kinda freaking him out.

"You called her Rae," he said simply before following the girl into the bathroom. Sam could hear his voice echoing in the tiny room. "Okay, so now I have to learn about girl hair, huh? This really sounds like a job for Uncle Sam, you know."

Sam scratched his head. What was all that about? So he called her Rae, so what? Wasn't that her name? Wait. No, it wasn't. Her name was Clementine. Sam smacked himself in the forehead. By calling her Rae he was condoning adding her to the family! He did not mean to do that! Sam looked at the partially open bathroom door. Or did he?

He crept closer to the bathroom, despite the fact he could hear every word uttered perfectly. Dean was reading the instructions on the shampoo, as if he had never used it before. Sam took another step closer. He could almost see them now. Dean was mumbling something about bathing suits. He peeked around the door. Rae was sitting in the middle of the tub, waiting patiently. Dean was measuring out a lump of shampoo in his palm.

"Wait a minute!" Sam shouted, the echo of his voice startling him. "You have to get her hair wet first!"

Dean shot him a look. "My hands are full of goo. How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Hang on," Sam raced over to the complimentary coffee pot and mugs. He grabbed one of the mugs and rushed back. "Here," he held out the mug, careful to look at Dean and not the girl.

"Again, my hands are full of goo," Dean's voice was patient, which was the only reason Sam looked down at his brother's hands. Dean had smeared shampoo over both palms.

"The directions did not say to do that," Sam said pointedly.

"Yeah? You read directions your way and I'll read 'em mine." Dean glared back.

"Fine," Sam huffed. He squeezed between Dean and the wall. Was this bathroom always so tiny? The walls felt like they were starting to close in. Sam reached down with the mug, filling it with tub water. "Rae, look up." She did and Sam poured the water carefully, keeping one hand on her forehead to stem the flow from going into her eyes. Sam kept doing it until he was fairly certain all of her hair was wet, even though the tiny room was growing smaller. He stood, taking a deep breath. "Okay, now."

Dean nodded and rubbed his hands lightly over Rae's head. "Work it in, Dean. You need to get a good lather going."

"Thank you, Vidal Sassoon." But Dean did not rub any harder.

"Dean, she's not made of glass. She won't break." A wave of dizziness hit Sam. This bathroom was definitely getting smaller. "Let me know how it goes," he stumbled out of the tiny room. Even the motel room felt too small. Sam made his way to the door, despite the fact the walls were threatening to crowd him into a corner. He burst out of the room, breathing heavily. Outside. This was much better. He sank against the building, the wall to his back and the parking lot in front of him. Much better.

"Sam! Sammy!" He could hear Dean bellowing from that tiny closet you could barely refer to as a bathroom. Sam was still breathing hard, he could not possibly answer his brother. So he sat there, willing his heartrate and erratic breathing to slow.

Sam studied Dean's car, which was directly in front of him. It used to be Dad's car. They traveled all over the country in that car. He remembered how the whispers at different schools varied, depending on where they were. Some kids loved the car, thought it was super cool. Other kids just saw something old and out of date. Sam hated to admit it, but he usually agreed with the latter crowd. He had always wanted something new, something no one else had ever driven. But to be fair, he was not sure anyone other than his father and brother had owned that car. It was Dean's most prized possession. Over the years, it even seemed to have absorbed Dean's personality. It was old enough to almost be a one of a kind. Sam was pretty sure no one else had a '67 Impala as a daily driver. So it was unique, powerful, and strong. Like Dean.

"Dude!" The door was cracked open. "What are you doing out there?"

Sam did not look back. "Just getting some air."

He heard the door close. Sam considered going inside, but he was just starting to feel like himself again. Then the door opened again. Dean sat next to him.

"I've been thinking about the demon," Dean said, also looking at the car.

"Yeah?" Sam relaxed against the wall. He had expected Dean to tease him about racing outside. He was trying to decide if he was relieved or concerned to have escaped it.

"I think you're right, there must be something else going on. Just money is enough for, say, a shapeshifter. But you'd think a demon had better plans." Dean sighed, relaxing against the wall.

"Where's the kid?" Sam asked. "Get her hair done?"

"Yeah. No thanks to you." There it was. "She's watching cartoons." Wait, was that all? Didn't Dean want to tease him more than that?

Sam chanced a look at his brother. Dean was staring stoically at his car. There was no trace of mirth in his face. He was concentrating on something. Sam could see his lips moving, a bad habit when Dean was figuring something out in his head.

"What kind of company did the McDermots have?" Dean asked, staring thoughtfully at the Impala.

"It's more of a holding company, really. They started with managing a business, then expanded into acquiring different companies. They're pretty diversified." The air was passing into his lungs easily now. Sam thought he might even be able to handle going back inside the room. "Want me to check?" He stood, stretching his back and shoulders.

Dean looked up from his seated position. "Yeah. Holler at me when you got something."

Sam paused before opening the door. "You're not coming in?"

"When you got something," Dean repeated, his gaze fixed to the sleek black body of his car.

"Um, okay." Sam stepped inside the room. He headed for the table and his laptop. Rae was watching cartoons, her hair dripping onto her formerly dry clothes. Sam paused. Damn it. He reached a long arm into the bathroom so he would not have to actually step inside, at least not yet, to grab a fresh towel. He leaned over the girl and began to towel dry her hair. She put her hands up, trying to push him away.

"Come on, Rae. Do you really want wet hair?" Sam held up the towel, ready to start again. She nodded. "Too bad. Come on," he attacked the wet head with his towel. She squirmed away, racing to the far side of the room.

"Oh, don't think it's going to be that easy!" Sam leapt over the nearest bed and her eyes went wide. He nodded with a grin. "Come on, now."

She tried to dash past him, but Sam's reflexes were too fast. He snagged her with one arm, pulling her in close. At the look of terror on her face, he changed tactics. Instead of rubbing her hair with the towel, he threw the towel over her head and tickled her. Her whole body wriggled in silent laughter as she sank slowly to the floor. Sam whipped off the towel. She sat panting on the floor. He tried to take advantage of her current state to dry her hair again, but she jumped to her feet and tickled Sam. He gave up. Her hair could just dry on its own. Sam lay in the floor, pretending to squirm from the tickle attack.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?" Dean's voice asked from above. Sam opened his eyes. His brother was standing over them, a small smile on his face. Uh-oh.

Rae turned her attack on Dean instead. Sam got up and looked around for his laptop.

"Oh no, you don't," was the only warning he had before a solid mass crashed into him, hurtling them both onto Sam's bed. Strong fingers worked his ribcage and a heavy weight was on his stomach. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean sitting on him trying to tickle him.

"Forget it, Dean. I'm not ticklish anymore." Sam sat up, knocking Dean backwards. How he wished he could have done that when they were kids.

"Wanna bet?" There was an unsettling gleam in Dean's eye. Dean lunged at him again, rolling them both onto the floor.

"Dean!" Sam growled in frustration. "I told you, I -" His body jerked. What was that? No, not there. Don't – not there!

"That's more like it," Dean crowed as Rae joined him in tickling Sam.

Sam gasped for breath. The bathroom was better than this! He tried to worm away, but Dean was nothing if not tenacious. Dean tickled him until tears ran down his face, until he could not breathe, until he would have begged for mercy if he could have.

Finally Dean stopped, sitting on the bed above him. "Not ticklish, huh?"

There was not enough air in the room to fill his lungs. Sam gasped lungful after lungful, trying to get enough. The last time he had felt that desperate was in Riverside. Wait. Riverside? He sat up, his eyes wide. He had to check. Sam sprinted for his laptop, wrenching it open like a man on a mission.

"Sammy? You okay? We didn't just make you have a vision or anything, did we?"

Unable to trust his voice yet, Sam shook his head. Finally it was booting up. Connected to the open wireless network. Sam pulled up the site he saved from the other day: the McDermot company's holdings. He scrolled through the list until he found what he was looking for. He spun the laptop around for his brother to see.

"There," he panted, still out of breath.

"What?" Dean moved closer, reading through the list. He looked back up at Sam. "What? I don't get it."

Sam took another large gulp of air. "Riverside. They own the clinic there."

"Yeah? So?"

Sam sat down. How could Dean be so thick? He waited until his breathing returned to something approximating normal. "I've been thinking about what you said. About how that one was the one that got away? And that girl? She said she had been waiting all day to infect me."

"Right. Which didn't work."

"Right. But I've been wondering about it. The whole thing felt like a huge experiment, you know? Try it out on a small town, see how fast it spreads, who is infected first, who never gets infected, how it affects different people. And what better place to monitor an experiment than the local clinic?" He had been trying to bring this up for weeks, but it had never been this clear in his mind before. That plus the fact Dean refused to discuss Riverside or anything that happened there.

Dean's jaw was clenched tight as he stared at the screen. "Son of a bitch."


	7. Ch7 Son of a Bitch

(Okay, a shameless reference to "Why do they always think…?" I just could not help myself! Sorry!!)

**Ch 7 – Son of a Bitch**

Dean stared long and hard at the computer screen. Finally, he motioned for Sam to hand him the laptop. With a side-long glance at Rae, absorbed in her inane show about a kid living in the White House, he began to type. Now his brother might not be setting any speed records and would undoubtedly make a lousy secretary, especially after you discovered salt in your coffee and your pencils ground down into eraserless nubs, but at least he used both hands to type. Sam used to marvel at the fact some of the Stanford students were hunt-and-peck typists, even in this day and age.

When Dean handed back the laptop, Sam saw he had been typing into a text editor.

_You think the demon virus came from the clinic? If it did, could Clementine and her parents have been infected? Or responsible?_

Sam typed back: _Maybe, but I don't think Rae or her parents were infected. They don't fit the pattern and all her bloodwork at the hospital was perfectly normal – no sulfur residue. And if they were responsible, why would a demon be trying to kill them and take over the company?_

Sam noticed the flicker of relief cross Dean's face. He had also noticed Dean referred to Rae as 'Clementine' in his message. His brother had been forced to make some pretty shitty decisions lately; apparently he was prepared for another. Sam motioned for Dean to pass back the laptop.

He added: _Now what? We need a plan to confront this demon. We can't just let it take over the McDermot estate._

Dean replied: _No choice – exorcism. In the house, or draw it out?_

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "No idea," he admitted, wondering why they were still bothering with the typing. "But there would be only one way to draw it out. With bait."

Dean looked down at Rae. He shook his head. "I don't know, Sammy."

She turned around to look at them. Now that her face had expression and there was life in her eyes, Sam had to admit, she was pretty darn cute. Right now she was hitting them with wide, wondering eyes. Sam felt as if Dean had just slugged him. How could he have suggested using her as bait?

"We just need a way of planting a Key of Solomon inside the house," Sam said, unable to tear away eyes which were far too old for any child. Those deep brown eyes undoubtedly once held innocence, and innocence could never be regained.

Dean's mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "Yeah. I have an idea."

His brother's last couple of ideas involved poking an old woman with a stick and posing as a gay couple to avoid the FBI. Sam was not too keen on his brother's ideas at the moment. "What kind of idea?" Sam demanded.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, princess. You are going to love it!" Dean's eyes shone with anticipation. That was never a good sign.

An hour later Dean returned with several large sheets of plywood. When he laid it out in the floor, Sam could see it was really one large sheet of plywood that had been cut into three sections and hinged together. Dean pointed at it proudly. "Well?"

"Well what, Dean?" Sam looked down skeptically. "It's plywood."

"You have no imagination," Dean shook his head. "It's a portable Key of Solomon!"

"Excuse me?" Sam thought that maybe Dean had finally lost his M&Ms. Well, it had only been a matter of time.

"Look, I've predrilled the holes and installed brass fittings." Sam looked where Dean was pointing and, sure enough, there were circular brass insets that screws would be able to hold onto without splitting the board. "All we have to do it paint the Key of Solomon on here and let it dry. When it's folded, it'll fit in the trunk. Now we'll have a Key of Solomon wherever we go!"

"Dean," Sam hated to burst his bubble, especially when he looked so triumphant, "I don't know that it will work with splits in it like that."

"Sure it will." Dean was still grinning. "I painted one on the bottom of an old water tower to trap that crossroads demon. The gaps in those boards were bigger than this, and it worked."

"Dean," how could he make his brother understand? "The whole point of painting it on a structure is that the demon can't just rip it off."

"That's what the screws are for!" Dean glared at him. "Come on. I try your ideas!"

Sam started to argue, but he knew it would be wasted breath. He was talking to a man who made an EMF out of a busted Walkman. And it actually worked. Who knows, maybe a portable Key of Solomon would come in handy. But if it actually worked, there would be no living around his older brother. None. The guy already had an ego that barely fit inside his car, what would this do to it?

So Sam dutifully helped Dean paint a perfect Key of Solomon on the plywood. Since they had all the time they needed, Sam was able to double-check every stroke. He wondered if outlining everything would make it even more powerful, especially since those two breaks were really bothering him. Sam picked up the second pint of paint, this one black, to outline the white that was nearly dry.

Dean sighed, rocking back. Sitting still for so long was difficult on his brother. "You really think we need that?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "I mean, the Trap is done, right?"

Sam nodded. "Well, I figure that as long as we have the time, might as well do it right." He concentrated on outlining an ancient symbol. "It won't be dark for hours."

Dean sighed again. "You know, I think Rae must be getting bored with all this." Sam glanced over his shoulder. She was still glued to the television. "Maybe I should take her for a, uh, walk or something."

"I noticed a park a couple of blocks away," Sam replied, deciding that this would go faster without Dean talking to him.

"That's a great idea!" Dean jumped to his feet. Motion definitely suited him better. "Rae, let's go to the park!" Dean moved to the door, but the girl was still transfixed by the glowing screen.

"Sammie Rae!" he barked.

She jumped to her feet, whirled around, eyes wide. Dean motioned for her to come to him. Rae rushed over, tripping over the plywood. Sam barely caught her before she fell on the floor.

"Careful," he murmured, setting her back on her feet. She thanked him with a smile before hurrying to take Dean's hand.

"Call me when you're done," Dean said as he closed the door behind them.

Sam grunted, but he was pretty sure the door was already closed. He reached over to press the power button on the tv before settling back down to work. As he carefully outlined the powerful symbols within the Key of Solomon, his mind started to wander. What was it with Dean and kids? His brother obviously had a serious soft spot, especially for kids with major life tragedies. But why? Because of how their mother died? Because of how they grew up? Because he was always the one responsible for Sam?

Sam paused in his work. That part was truer than he liked to admit, even now. Whenever anything bad happened to Sam, Dean was always blamed for it. He shook his head, mentally berating their father for that particular twisted brand of parenting. When he was younger he had taken advantage of it until it nearly drove Dean crazy; purposefully sneaking out at night, intentionally missing the school bus so Dad would have to pick him up, refusing to eat whatever he originally wanted for dinner. Sam grinned to himself as his slow brush strokes gradually finished outlining the Trap.

Dean used to get so frustrated with him. He slept in the same bed, to make sure Sam did not sneak out at night. He started riding the older kids' bus to Sam's school so he could ride home with Sam. That had never been Sam's intention, but he thought it worked out pretty well anyway. And while Dean had always ragged on him for the dinner thing, his brother usually gave in to his demands.

Sam was still grinning about that when Dean and Rae rushed back into the room, breathless.

"Sammy, please tell me that thing's ready!" Dean shouted, slamming the door, his back against it.

"What happened?" Sam was on his feet, shotgun in hand, in one fluid movement.

"Something was at the park," Dean panted. Rae clutched his jacket, her eyes wide.

Sam reached into their supply bag and brought out two canisters of salt. He tossed one to Dean and took the other one to pour a salt line in the window sill.

"Let's do the whole room," Dean shouted, already laying a salt line along the wall.

"Wait. The whole room?" Sam turned to watch his brother. Dean was almost done with the far wall already. "Dean!"

Dean jumped at his voice, looking at the door before turning to look at Sam. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"An explanation. What was at the park?" Sam's finger was poised above the spout, threatening to close the salt.

"I'm not sure," Dean admitted. Rae still clung to his jacket, though she reached for Dean's arm. She finally caught his eye. Her efforts were rewarded by a forced smile and a strong arm that scooped her up and held her close. That was when Sam realized that Dean was scared. It took him a minute, because he never thought of anything scaring his brother. Whatever was out there must have come after Rae, and it really scared his normally unflappable brother. Sam recognized the look in Dean's eyes. He looked the same each time Sam came out of one of those damned visions. Before today he thought Dean was just worried and concerned, now he knew the truth. Dean was scared.

Sam shook away the troublesome thoughts that threatened the very foundations of his world. "Don't you think we should find out?" Sam asked, trying to sound reasonable.

"And how are we gonna do that, Sam? Huh? How?" Dean demanded.

Sam was finding it difficult to argue when there was a small body plastered across his brother's chest. He shook his head as he headed for the door, shotgun in hand. "I'm going to take a look."

"Sam!"

He ignored his brother's cry, slamming the door behind him. Two doors down, a busybody peeked out her cracked door. When she saw Sam standing there with a shotgun, the door slammed shut. Sam figured he had fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, before the police arrived. But this was a fairly small town, it might only be ten minutes. He headed toward the park, his eyes searching the shadows. Sam had no intention of being near their motel room when the local law arrived; Dean was too hot as it was. He figured he could be seen with the shotgun a few blocks away and lead the police on a wild Winchester chase.

As he searched the shadows along the street for any sign of movement, Sam heard something growl. His head snapped up. It came from the bushes across the street. Sam rushed across the street, stalking the sound. He approached cautiously. When he was closer, he looked around. Next to his foot was a hedge bordered with decorative bricks. The brick was a little heavier than he would have liked, but it was convenient. Sam tossed the brick into the bush, clasping the butt of the shotgun to his shoulder. The growl grew louder. Snarls erupted from the safety of the leaves.

"Come on!" Sam shouted at the bush. "Get out of there!"

The bush shook, leaves rattling. The rattling intensified, building in pitch and fervor. Sam stepped back, the shotgun steady. Leaves shot off the branches like tiny green missiles, littering the sidewalk and street. Sam's face was pelted by Mother Nature's revenge. He squinted his eyes against it, unwilling to look away from the possessed bush. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Sam took one step closer. Nothing. He took another step. The leafless bush was still and silent. He was close enough to prod it with his shotgun. Again – nothing.

Sam frowned. The last time he saw something he could not actually see, it was a HellHound. Sam spun and ran back to the motel, the busybody and police forgotten. Dean! Rae!

TBC…


	8. Ch8 Nightmares

A little shorter than the other chapters, but since the best show on television is on tonight, I figured – why not?

**Ch8 Nightmares**

Sam's heart was pounding and his breath ragged by the time he reached their motel room. If he had not already been out of breath, the sight that met his eyes would have taken it away.

The door was hanging by one hinge, what was left of it. Most of it was in pieces, littering the walk and several feet into their room. Sam stepped inside, holding his breath. Claw marks ripped through the wall and cheap wallpaper. Little bits of pink fabric were scattered around the room. It was several moments before Sam was able to identify the pink bits as what was left of Rae's backpack. Shredded little girl clothes were strewn across the floor. One of the beds, the one Dean and Rae slept in, had huge claw marks slashed down the center. Little round marks in the wall caught Sam's attention. He concluded it was from a rocksalt shotgun blast.

He walked further into the room, praying he would not find whatever caused this or, worse, the remains of the only family he had. There was a blood smear on one wall. Sam touched it gingerly, it was still fresh. His duffle was still under his bed, untouched. Apparently the Hellhound, or whatever it was, was not interested in him. Sam grabbed the bag, tossing it over his shoulder. The weapons bag was gone, but Dean's duffle looked fairly intact. Sam picked it up, too. When he walked back outside, he saw that the car was gone.

Sam breathed a little easier. One of them had to be hurt, probably Dean, but at least they made it out. Sam slipped his cell phone out to call his brother. He heard it ring several times before noticing a familiar tune from the room. Following the sound, Sam found his brother's cell phone under the dresser. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He looked around for the yellow pages. Finding it, he ripped out the first couple of yellow sheets with motels listed and shoved them into his bag. The sound of sirens in the distance gave his feet additional encouragement.

Sam made it to the far end of the motel parking lot before the first cop car screamed into the parking lot. As additional cars followed, red and blue lights flashing, Sam slipped his slim-jim down the window of the car he was standing next to. While local police officers rushed into their demolished motel room, he hotwired the car. He pulled out of the parking lot slowly, using the far entrance. Two more official vehicles passed him as he pulled onto the road. He drove a couple of blocks before pulling over. Sam pulled the yellow sheets out of his bag. He smoothed out the wrinkles. The first motel on the list was AAA Lucky Motel. He called the number listed.

"Do you have a Jim Rockford signed in?" he asked.

The clerk laughed before hanging up on him.

After the same basic reply from the next four motels listed, he set the pages aside. Sam sighed heavily, massaging his brow. Dean probably had not had time to check into a new motel room. Where would Dean go next? What would Dean do? His eyes flashed open. What happened to their Key of Solomon? He looked over the room in his mind's eye. He did not recall seeing it on the floor where he had left it. Would Dean have had time to take it with him? And if he did…

Sam pulled away from the curb. He headed toward the McDermot house, hoping to spot the Impala somewhere along the way. As he approached the McDermot's neighborhood in the stolen car, Sam spotted an older model black car on a sidestreet next to a park. He pulled over. Sam cut through the park, looking for his brother and their young charge.

He spotted Rae first, sitting under the monkey bars staring up at the sky. Her face was blank, expressionless. He sighed heavily. Dean was sitting under a tree a few feet away. Sam walked heavily to join his brother. They sat side by side, watching the unmoving girl.

"What happened?" Sam broke the heavy silence first, knowing his brother's face was as blank as the girl's.

He heard a soft noise, like Dean had to clear his throat to make sure his voice still worked. "Not sure. It was fast." There as a pregnant pause as Dean gathered his thoughts. "I figured I'd pack a few things, you know, just in case." Dean's shoulder shifted against his, but Sam did not move. "Rae wouldn't let go of me, so we put the Key of Solomon in the car together. Then I loaded up the weapons. Still had the trunk open when I went back for the clothes."

His brother was quiet for so long this time, Sam did roll his head to the side. Dean was staring at Rae with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. "I sent Rae over to get her backpack. I started to pack mine." A deep breath. "That was when the door exploded."

"How did you get out?" Sam kept his voice soft, like they were in a library or church.

"Not real sure," Dean admitted. "I remember Rae screaming. Really screaming. Then it threw me out the door. I grabbed the other shotgun from the trunk and ran back in. Man, she was really screaming." Dean had a distant look in his eyes. "Her backpack was flying apart in tiny pieces, like some huge invisible dog was tearing it apart. I shot at it. Just pissed it off."

"Dean?"

"I dunno, Sam. I got her out of there and we took off. Still not sure what happened."

Sam leaned back against the tree again. "What are you doing here? I've been calling hotels looking for you."

"Should have tried my cell."

Sam reached in his pocket, revealing Dean's cell. "You didn't have it," he said, passing it over.

Dean stared down at the phone. "Oh. Well, that explains why you didn't call." He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam's brow crinkled. "For what, Dean?"

"Leaving. I left you behind with that thing." Dean shook his head, covering his face with his hands. His hands were shaking. "Never shoulda left." His voice was weak.

"Dean? I found it first. It got away from me. It's my fault it attacked you and Rae." When did he put his hand on Dean's shoulder? And why was Dean trembling? "I screwed up, Dean. I didn't shoot it."

He gasped, as though the air was refusing to go into his lungs. "My fault. My responsibility." The look on his brother's face was foreign and frightening.

"Dean! Snap out of it!" Sam shook him, hard.

"What? Dude, let go of me!" Dean shook him off. "I'm just saying…"

"And it's wrong, Dean. You can't be responsible for everyone all the time. It just isn't possible. This was my mistake. Let me take responsibility for it." Sam was staring him in the eye. Those eyes, which were usually a hard green, were now watery and indecisive. "It's after Rae, Dean. We have to stop it."

Dean's gaze flicked back to the girl. His eyes hardened, taking on that predatorial look Sam knew only too well. "Have to get inside the house first," he growled.

Sam could not help the grin spreading over his face. This was the Dean he knew. "I was hoping you'd have an idea about that."

"Yeah. Maybe." He was still staring at the girl. "That poor kid. You do know she's screwed up for life?"

Sam sighed, directing his attention back to her. "Well, at least she's with the right family, then. Come on." He stood, offering a hand to help up his brother.

"Is that right?" Dean asked, accepting Sam's hand.

"Yeah. How long has she been sitting there like that?" Sam asked as they approached her.

"About ten minutes," Dean replied with a shrug. "Rae, look who I found." Sam noticed his brother's voice was softer and dropped in pitch.

She turned slowly to face them, her face still blank.

"Hey, Rae," Sam tried giving her a little wave.

"Aaacccckk!" She screamed.

"See?" Dean covered his ears. "Told you she could scream!"

Sam covered the ground between them in two quick strides. He picked Rae up, giving her a little shake. "Hey! It's me! Uncle Sam! Knock it off!"

Her screams stopped with her mouth hanging open. Her eyes focused on Sam and her face was no longer blank. Now she looked confused. She turned to Dean.

"He's still alive," Dean said, as if such an explanation were the most natural thing in the world.

Her face turned back to Sam. She stared at him a long moment before her face cracked into a broad smile. Both arms wrapped around his neck and she squeezed violently. Sam gasped at the unexpected strength of her embrace. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean grinning. When dark sparkles started intruding on his vision, he heard Dean's voice say, "Okay, Rae. I think Uncle Sammy needs to breathe now." The arms were peeled back from his neck.

Sam gasped for breath as Dean carried Rae back to the car. "Come on, Sam. We have work to do."

TBC…Next: Into The Lair


	9. Ch9 Into The Lair

**Ch9 - Into The Lair**

The Impala roared to life. Dean glanced over Rae's head at Sam. "Did you hear what you said out there?" he asked.

Sam sighed. Dean's quizzes were getting on his nerves. "Which part?"

A grin flashed over Dean's face. "The part where you called yourself Uncle Sam."

Sam felt his eyes widen. Did he say that? "I did?" Rae leaned against him, rubbing his arm.

"You sure did, buddy boy." The Impala growled as Dean pulled onto the street, threatening any potholes rude enough to get in its way.

"But you know what bothers me?"

"Why there was a hellhound tracking us?" Sam asked, stating what he thought was obvious.

"No." Dean passed the McDermot's neighborhood. "You get to be Uncle Sam, so what am I? Just Dean?" He shifted in his seat, concentrating on the businesses along this stretch of road. "Kinda boring, don't you think?"

Sam's mind raced. Who did Dean think he was fooling? Or was he really serious? Did he not realize the role he had already taken? Sam cleared his throat. "I'm sure when Rae decides to start talking, you'll get your own, uh, title." Dean acted as if Sam had not spoken, but his shoulders relaxed a little.

"Ah! There we go," Dean pulled into a small business. Sam peered through the windshield at the neon sign proclaiming 'Mort's: Best Television Repair Service In Town.'

"What are we doing here?"

"Need uniforms," Dean replied, stepping out of the car. "You two stay here."

"No problem," Sam mumbled. He turned his attention to Rae. She was staring after Dean, who disappeared into the store. Sam nudged her. "So, I scared you, huh?" he asked.

Rae turned her soft brown eyes on him. He was starting to understand what Dean meant by 'puppy dog' eyes. Her hand squeezed his forearm.

"Sorry about that. But if you don't see…" Wow, now that was insensitive. Apparently Dean was rubbing off on him. "I mean, Dean and I are pretty good at this stuff. You can't just assume it got us, okay?"

She stared up at him for a long time. He imaged that she was weighing his words, deciding how much she really trusted him. After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged, her eyes returning to the door Dean went through. Sam chuckled, earning him another stare.

"Sorry. It's just," he paused. What was it? "You act a lot like Dean." He shrugged. That seemed to satisfy her. She leaned against him as she turned back to watch for Dean. "Been a hell of a week, hasn't it," he murmured, wrapping a protective arm around her.

They waited in silence for Dean to come out. Sam kept checking the time on his cell, wondering if he should call but knowing if he screwed up whatever Dean was doing there would be hell to pay. So they just waited.

Dean sauntered out of the store holding a garbage bag and a huge smile. He tossed the bag into the back seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Sam could feel Rae relax the instant Dean was in sight.

"So what's the plan?" Sam could not help asking as they pulled onto the street.

"We show up as television repairmen, bring in the portable Key of Solomon, and install it. No sweat." Dean flashed a smile.

"No sweat. Right." Sam frowned at him. "You don't think they'll find it peculiar that two television repairmen need a huge piece of plywood to fix their set?"

Dean's eyes bounced around for a moment. "Nah."

Sam snorted, looking out the window. "So you're planning to bring it in through a window, huh?"

"Yep." Sam doubted Dean had the idea before he said it, but who knows. Despite the way he acted sometimes, Dean was certainly not stupid.

"What about Rae?" Sam shifted so he could watch Dean's reaction.

"What about her?" Dean's eyes narrowed as they pulled onto the street with the McDermot house.

"Is she waiting in the car?"

"What? No! She goes with us." Dean shot him a strong look.

"Won't they recognize her?" Sam demanded.

That smile spread across his face again, the one that made Sam feel like they could be arrested any moment. "Got it covered."

The house, actually mansion, was less intimidating by daylight. It was still huge with an iron fence ringing the property, but it looked more cheerful now. Sam wondered how cheerful the ghosts of Rae's parents were today.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Sam asked as Dean shut off the engine.

That bright smile returned in force. "This," he reached back for the bag. He started pulling repairman uniforms out of it. "You're Harry," he tossed a shirt at Sam, "and I'm Joe." Dean took a shirt out for himself. He pulled another Joe shirt out. "This one is for Rae," he explained, rolling up the sleeves.

"So you're going to try the same story? About her mother being murdered?" Sam asked, watching Dean drape the large shirt over Rae's small frame.

"Worked last time," Dean said, buttoning up the shirt on Rae. "Right, Rae?" he asked with a wink. She nodded solemnly at him.

"Okay, ground rules," Dean sounded stern. He pointed a finger at Rae. "You stay either right by me or Sam the whole time. You don't go anywhere by yourself, I don't care if it is your house. Understood?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now, some scary stuff is going to happen in there," Dean hunched over, trying to be at her eye level, "but we won't let anything happen to you. Okay?"

Rae bit her lip as she nodded again.

"Okay." Dean pulled on his own Joe shirt. "And you," he glanced up at Sam, "you get to carry the Trap over to the side of the house. Hopefully they don't have cameras all over the outside." Dean reached back into the bag and pulled out three hats. He passed one to Sam before plunking one on his own head. He sized the last one for Rae. It was still too big, but it did wonders for hiding her face.

Dean sat back and grinned at his handiwork. "That should do it. Let's go," he started up the car. They pulled into the drive, stopping at the gate. Dean reached out to press the intercom button.

"Yes?"

"Yeah, television repair," Dean shouted at the intercom.

"Not on my list," came the static reply.

"Oh, okay. Hang on," Dean pretended to fumble with the yellow sheets Sam had left in the floorboard. "It was a Mister Dolan who called. He not there?"

They heard nervous throat clearing through the static. Dean smirked. They were so in. There was a buzzing noise and the gate swung open. Dean spared them a wink as he drove through the gate. He pulled up as close to the front door as he dared.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Sam hissed.

"Might need to make a quick exit," Dean shot back. "Got a better idea?" The Impala shuddered to a stop, as if it knew better than to park here, too.

Sam blew his bangs out of his eyes. Typical Dean. He followed Dean up to the door. "It'd probably be better if I came in with you, then went out to the car for extra tools," he whispered. Dean nodded, checking to be sure Rae was close beside him. He grasped her hand as he knocked.

Sam looked away when Liza the housekeeper opened the door. "Mister Dolan called you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean beamed at her. They stepped into the foyer. "So where is it?"

Liza closed the door behind them. "Is it standard procedure to bring a child with you?"

"Yes," Dean grinned. When Liza continued to frown, Dean passed Rae's hand off to Sam. He stepped closer to the housekeeper and whispered into her ear. Liza's eyes widened and a hand fluttered up to her mouth.

"Poor dear," she gasped.

"So," Dean stepped back, "where's the set?"

----------------------------

Rae hovered at Dean's side as he peered into the guts of the television set. He frowned as he fiddled with a few components. "Where's Sam?" he muttered under his breath.

Tapping sounds. Dean spun around. Sam was waving at him from the window. He rushed over, throwing open the curtains and raising the window. "About time!" he hissed. "Not sure how much longer I can stall. That housekeeper is a freaking control freak!"

"Here," Sam passed their portable Trap through the window. "Any idea where we need to install it?" He climbed through holding a toolbox.

Dean rubbed a hand over his head. "Well, I figure it needs to be where he's going to either walk right over it or under it. Under it is probably safer, you think?"

Sam nodded. "That seems to work best."

"Got the drills?"

Sam hefted the toolbox in his hand. Dean checked outside the door. He beckoned for them to follow. "His office is on the first floor," Dean whispered, "but he lives upstairs. If we're going to put it on the ceiling, you think the upstairs landing or his office?"

"Office," Sam replied confidently. "We can work behind a closed door that way."

"Good thinking," Dean said with a nod. He led the way to the office they discovered the other night. With the office door closed, Dean held up their portable Trap while Sam started screwing it to the ceiling. When it was secure enough for Dean to let go, he went to the door.

"You finish up here. I'm going to see if I can find that kid," he told Sam.

"What? What kid? The one posing as Clementine?" Sam stood on the desk, drill in one hand and screws in the other. He shook his head. "Bad idea, Dean. What happens if Liza spots you?"

Rae rushed over to grab his hand. "We were just looking for the bathroom," Dean said with a brilliant smile.

Sam sighed as they left, returning to his work. He finished installing their portable Key of Solomon, thinking that perhaps just drawing one would have been a little less trouble. He brushed ceiling dust off his shoulders, wondering what had become of his brother. Trying to imagine how exactly Dean planned to get the demon in the attorney's office, he peeked out the door. There was a low growl to his right. Sam's head whipped around as he reached for his gun, but he saw nothing. Nothing, that is, until large claw marks appeared in the flooring.


	10. Ch10 Facing Demon

**Ch10 Facing the Demon**

"Sam!" Dean's voice echoed in the hall. He felt rather than saw his brother shove him back inside the room. The door slammed shut. "Man, what I wouldn't give for some of that goofer dust right now!"

Sam regained his balance. "What happened?"

"Dude! That's a hellhound out there!" Something crashed against the door. Dean shoved Rae away as he braced himself against the door. Sam threw his weight beside his brother's. The hellhound was pounding the door, sending jolts along their spines with jackhammer regularity. When Sam feared it they could no longer hold it back, that it would break through, it stopped.

Sam looked at Dean, hardly daring to believe their luck. Dean shook his head. He did not believe it. If there was one thing the Winchesters were short on, it was good luck. There was a knock at the door. It sounded suspiciously human.

"If you repairmen don't mind, I would very much like to go in my office." Mister Dolan's voice came through the door.

Dean shot Sam a worried look. This obviously was not going to plan. Dean moved away from the door to stand in front of Rae. His gun was held loosely in his hand as nodded to Sam. Sam opened the door slowly, standing behind it, gun ready.

Mister Dolan, or rather whatever was possessing him, strode into the room and sat behind the desk. Dean shot Sam a quick smile, but they both knew this was far from over.

"I will be calling your employers to report this. I expect you both to be fired by the end of the day. Now get out." Dolan looked down at his computer screen, not bothering to make eye contact.

"No." Dean held Rae tightly behind him. "Our job isn't finished yet."

"I told you, you should expect to be fired," Dolan looked up. "Oh, I see." His smile sent a shiver down Sam's spine. "Dean Winchester." He leaned back in his chair. "I suppose I should run away screaming in fear now? And is?" He glanced over where Sam was shutting the door. "Ah, of course. Sam would be here, too." He gave a knowing nod. "So my yellow-eyed colleague has not been successful yet? What a shame. Apparently I need to recall my hound."

Dean took a rosary out, twiddling it in his fingers with a wicked smile. "I'm going to enjoy this one," he said.

Mister Dolan stood, glaring at them. "You can't seriously expect me to just stay here and take it?"

"Actually, that's exactly what we expect," Sam said, pointing to the ceiling. "Now, why don't you tell us about that clinic in Riverside?"

Dolan's eyes went solid black as he looked up. "Well, what do you know. In my own office, too." He shook his head. "You know, I didn't believe all those rumors about you two. My mistake." He braced himself for the exorcism.

"I believe my brother asked you a question," Dean prompted, pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket.

"What? Riverside? Never heard of it." Dolan smiled in a way that would chill the Fourth of July.

Dean chuckled. He tossed the contents of his flask in Dolan's face. Dolan screamed, clawing at his eyes. "Riverside!" Dean shouted.

Dolan reeled backwards, to the edge of the symbol on the ceiling. When his hands came away, there were burn marks across his eyes which were still pitch black. He laughed. "I'll bet you'd like to know."

Dean produced their father's journal from under his work shirt. He opened it and began reciting in Latin.

"Are they experiments?" Sam shouted. "What are you trying to learn?"

Dolan screamed, the primal scream of the damned. The bookcase behind Dean teetered.

"Dean!"

Dean turned around in time to see it start to fall. He had just enough time to shove Rae out of the way, using his own body to protect her from the falling bookcase. Sam tried to run to his brother, to help, but something caught him. He looked around, but there was nothing there. He felt the air squeezed out of his lungs, heard Rae's sharp cry as Dean fell, felt the ground rush up and slam into his body as darkness crowded his vision.

"Mommy! Daddy! Help! Help!"

Sam forced his eyes to open. What happened? It felt like his chest was in a vice, no air was getting in. He gasped, trying to locate the screaming child. It was Rae. She was trying to pull Dean out from underneath the bookcase. The journal was on the floor beside him. Sam reached out, trying to grab the journal. He had to finish the exorcism, it was the only thing that would save them.

"Mommy! Daddy! Hhheeeellllppp!!" Rae was hysterical, screaming and crying, yanking on Dean's collar.

The lights flashed erratically. "Damn that housekeeper!" Dolan roared, the room shaking. "This was supposed to be fixed!"

The other bookcases began to shake. Books shot out, pelting Dolan in the face, driving him to the very edge of the symbol on the ceiling. Sam found that he could breathe again. The journal was at his fingertips. One more stretch and --- he had it. His fingers closed around their lifeline, pulling it close. From the floor, Sam finished the exorcism, shouting to be heard above the whirlwind of paper and books assaulting Dolan. There was another demonic scream. Sam looked up. Black smoke was emerging from Dolan's mouth, twisting up and away like a thin evil tornado.

"Dean!" Sam was on his feet, straining to lift the heavy bookcase off his brother. "You!" he shouted to Dolan, now that he was no longer possessed. "Get over here and help!"

Dolan stumbled around his desk, looking around in utter confusion. "What's happening here?"

"He's under the bookcase. Help him!" Sam struggled to keep the bookcase up. He felt as though every muscle in his back and legs might snap, when it felt lighter. Sam pushed harder and the bookcase moved further away from Dean. As he turned, still shoving it back, each push and shove became easier and easier, though logically that was not possible. The bookcase was upright. Sam wiped his brow, but Dean was still down.

"Dean!" Sam knelt beside his brother, on the other side Rae was still pulling frantically at his shirt. He slapped his brother. "Open your eyes, Dean! Dean!" Panic was gripping him, even as he fought to control it.

Rae was crying but she went still. She was staring just beyond Sam. Sam turned around. There were two figures standing behind him, the same two he saw outside the Impala: Clementine's parents.

"You. You can't help him. Can you?" His chest was no longer in an invisible vice, but he still could not breathe. Not now. "Can you?"

Rae clung to Dean, tears flowing freely down her face as she watched the images of her parents. Sam felt for a pulse, something that did not occur to him a moment ago. He breathed a sigh of relief. Dean's pulse was steady and strong. He was just unconscious, probably had a concussion.

"I'll call an ambulance," Dolan's voice came from behind the desk. As the man spoke to emergency services, Sam watched something very odd happen. Clementine's parents were speaking to her, but Sam could not hear them. He guessed his abilities were the only reason he could see them. He wished he had learned to read lips, that would be very useful now. On reflection, they really did not have lips, so he supposed that perhaps even if he could it would not do him any good. They appeared to reach an agreement with the silent girl. The father walked, or rather glided, over to the attorney's computer. He placed a hand inside the monitor. The printer started up, gently hissing as it spat out page after page.

Dolan hung up the phone. "The ambulance should be here soon." He investigated his printer. "What were you two doing in here, anyway?" As he reached for the pages, they floated away to the desk. Sam stood to watch as two ink pens floated out of the desk drawer. The pens signed the papers again and again.

"What is it?" Sam whispered to Dolan.

Dolan shook his head. "I don't see anything," he protested, shutting his eyes.

The pens returned to their place in the desk drawer, which shut with bang.

"Huh?" Dean stirred by his feet.

Sam dropped back to his knees. "Dean! You okay?"

"Hell no, I'm not okay," Dean grunted. "Just had a bookcase fall on me, didn't I?" He held out a hand.

Sam ignored the hand and grabbed Dean's shoulders to help him into a sitting position. Rae immediately crawled into his lap. "Just sit here for a minute, okay? The paramedics will be here soon."

"Aahhh, Sammy!" Dean groaned. "I'm fine. No need." He waved a hand, but did not get up. Rae had his other arm wrapped around her stomach.

Sam ignored his brother, determined that the idiot receive proper medical attention regardless. He reached for the papers on the desk. As he flipped through them, he looked up at Dolan. "Do these mean what I think they mean?"

With a shaking hand, Dolan took the papers from Sam's hand. With a practiced eye, he skimmed the document. "According to this, the McDermots have named one Dean Winchester as their daughter's legal guardian in the event of their death. Hmm."

"What?" Dean glanced up at Sam. Sam waved a hand back at him to shut up.

"Hmm what?" Sam demanded.

"Well, these papers were not notarized." With those words the pages flew out of his hands. They fluttered in a whirlwind before stacking themselves neatly on the top of the desk. Dolan picked them up again. "Ah, I see everything is in order." He was pale, but handling everything much better than Sam would have hoped. "Apparently a judge who has been dead for the last five years even approved it, so there is no need to return to court." He held out the papers to Sam with a trembling hand. "These papers should suffice if you ever need proof of legal guardianship." Sam took the papers, knowing they would probably never need proof of guardianship. Dean would undoubtedly 'obtain' a birth certificate when the need arose.

"The girl?" Dean asked from the floor, cradling his head in one hand. "The one upstairs?"

"What girl upstairs?" Dolan leaned across the desk.

"The one the demon was gonna use to control the McDermot estate! What happens to her? She thinks she's getting a real home for a change." Dean pressed a palm against his temple. "Damn, I got a headache."

"I'll, uh, see what I can do," Dolan promised.

"No, you're going to have to do better than that," Dean snapped. He shifted, trying to stand. Sam helped him to his feet. "You," Dean prodded the rotund man in the chest, "are going to find her a home, you hear me? A real home. Poor kid's been through enough."

Dean sighed, looking down at Rae. "So have you." He dropped to one knee, wincing as his head throbbed. "I'm sure you can stay here. They'll take really good care you. No more demons or monsters." He looked her straight in the eye. "What do you say?" Sam heard his brother's voice crack, but he was pretty sure no one else could tell.

The tears were still flowing down Rae's face. Lights started flickering again. "Oh, come on, already! I'm trying to do the right thing here!" Dean shouted at the ceiling.

The document lifted from Sam's hands and soared through the air into Dean's palm. Dean's eyes dropped to read it. "Sammy? Why does this thing have my name on it?"

"Dean, her parents want you to be Rae's guardian," Sam explained. "And everything looks legal. They even gave you permission to change her name and the form to do it with," he shuffled through the papers, pointing out the legal name form, "here."

"Huh? Sammy, this is one hell of a weird dream." Dean just stared at the paper.

"You aren't the one with weird dreams, Dean," Sam said gently. "So, will there be a trust fund for her? To pay for clothes, books, college?" he asked Dolan.

Dolan shrugged. "As her legal guardian, he will control the entire estate."

"But I don't want it," Dean protested. "I mean, we travel way too much. And I can't possibly stay in just one place. Sam, you telling me that I'm…a…what?"

"The word is parent, Dean." Sam turned back to Dolan. "What if he signs the authority for the estate back over to you, on the condition that you liquefy all holdings in medical clinics or anything that might be used for human experimentation?"

"Well, if he keeps it in her name, then I will be able to put away the profits into a trust fund for her. We can even set it up so you can draw on it periodically throughout her life."

Sirens wailed in the distance. "I don't think we're gonna have time for that. Sammy, that doesn't sound like an ambulance." Dean jumped onto the desk, pulling at the plywood screwed to the ceiling.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

"What's the point in having a portable demon trap if you don't take it with you?" Dean demanded.

Sam sighed his long-suffering sigh. "Hold on, I'll help. You," he pointed to Dolan, "go get rid of the cops."

Dolan left the room, pale and sweaty. Sam was pretty sure the guy had a clue about what happened, he was just refusing to believe it. It was easier taking down the trap than it was putting it up. In less than a minute they had the plywood off the ceiling and folded up. Sam took it away from Dean, wondering how they could get out of there with the car out front and cops everywhere.

Rae was pulling on Dean's arm, wanting to go upstairs. Dean ignored her, heading for the back door. As they passed the stairs, she shouted, "Daddy! Daddy!"

Dean froze. "Sam? See anything?" His head whipped from side to side.

"Dean? I'm pretty sure she was talking to you." Sam nodded to Rae. "You did say you wanted a title, remember?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Rae was still tugging on his arm.

"Maybe you should go see what she wants," Sam nodded to the stairs. "I'll wait here."

"But the cops!"

Sam shook his head. "If Dolan couldn't handle it, they would have been inside by now. Go ahead." Sam rested the plywood on the floor. He watched Dean led upstairs by a six year old, his face glazed over in shock or disbelief. Or perhaps it was just Dean being Dean and not allowing his emotions to show. Either way, their job just got a whole lot more interesting.


	11. Ch11 After

Thanks to Jessalyn-Laine for the constructive comments. I've corrected my mistake confusing the Key of Solomon for "Devil's Trap" in previous chapters. This chapter should be less confusing!

**Ch11 – After**

Sam rolled out of bed, stretched, his stomach rumbled. As he pulled on fresh clothes, he had the feeling he was being watched. Wide brown eyes peeked over his brother's chest.

"Morning, Sunshine," Sam whispered. "Feel like some breakfast?"

She wriggled out from under Dean's arm. Sam was shocked his brother did not wake. She was already wearing regular clothes. Since the hellhound incident, Rae refused to wear anything to bed she did not want to be seen in outside. Normally Dean made her change first thing in the morning anyway, but Sam did not see the harm in eating breakfast in rumpled clothes occasionally.

Sam took her hand as he pushed the door to their motel room closed. Rae skipped alongside him as they walked through the parking lot to the 24 hour restaurant. It was pretty early and most of the tables were empty.

"Can I have eggs and bacon this morning?" she asked as they waited to be seated.

"Sure. Whatever you want." Sam grinned down at her. "I think today we'll talk about mythology."

She bounced beside him with excitement. He figured it was probably her favorite subject because it was the one Dean took the most interest in. When the hostess seated them Rae hid behind him, gripping his hand tightly. Sam nearly had to force her to sit on the other side of the booth. As usual, she refused to talk to the waitress, so Sam ordered for them both.

Sam looked across at Rae, waiting for their breakfast to be delivered. "Okay, let's get started. First, any questions?" he asked, sipping his coffee. The coffee in this place could nearly jump out of the cup and run off on its own. Sam sighed with contentment.

"What about werewolves?" she asked. Since Rae found her voice a couple of months ago, they had not been able to shut her up. The only time she was quiet was when she was sleeping or around strangers. Okay, so mostly just quiet around strangers, she still had pretty horrible nightmares.

"Silver bullet to the heart," Sam could not help grinning at her. She was like a sponge, absorbing all the information he could throw at her.

"Are zombies real?" Those big brown eyes bored right into him, but he was getting used to it now. Sam found he was starting to like it, even. This uncle thing wasn't too bad.

Sam nodded. "We even had to kill one."

"No way! How do you kill something what's already dead?" Rae was breathless with anticipation.

"Well, it isn't easy," Sam leaned forward, "you have to dig up its grave, then stake it to the gravebed."

Her brow furrowed. "What's a gravebed?"

The waitress chose that exact moment to deliver their food. She gave Sam a stern look as his plate banged against the table. Sam shrugged sheepishly. Rae slid as far away from the waitress as she could. Sam's phone went off.

"Hey, Dean."

"You two better be eating breakfast," he growled.

"Just across the parking lot. Want us to order anything for you? Coffee? Eggs? A morning personality?" Sam grinned at Rae, giving her a wink.

"Just have the damn coffee ready." The line went dead.

Sam chuckled as he put his phone away. Rae looked around to be certain the waitress was not close by before whispering, "Is Dad coming?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes. I just hope he remembers to brush his teeth first," Sam shuddered for effect, making Rae giggle. He waved down the waitress to order a second coffee.

He and Rae played question and answer until Dean arrived. Dean entered the restaurant like a force of nature, blowing through the front door and storming to the table. Rae slid over to make room for him.

"Morning, Daddy!" She jumped onto the bench to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Morning," Dean mumbled, accepting the kiss without comment. He leaned back with his coffee, sipping it gratefully. "So, what's the topic this morning?"

"American mythology," Sam told him.

Dean looked a little more awake. "Yeah? Cool. Learn anything useful?" he asked Rae.

"You kill werewolves by shooting a silver bullet into their hearts. Cut off vampire heads. Salt and burn the bones of ghosts. And for zombies you gotta do something with meating a gravebed, whatever that is."

Dean's eyes widened. "What? Meeting the gravebed?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I believe I said stake to the gravebed."

"Right. Steak is meat." Rae said with a curt nod. "So how does the meat kill it?"

Dean chuckled into his coffee. "She's got you there, Sam. How does the meat kill it? I want to hear this."

The waitress drifted back by. "Excuse me. That your girl?" She pointed out Rae.

"Yeah, why?" Dean sounded defensive.

"Because I caught this guy here filling her head with all kinds of crazy stuff." Her hands were firmly planted on her hips as she glared down Sam.

"Don't I know it! But my brother absolutely insists that his niece learns silly things like reading, writing, math. I keep telling him, all she needs to know is how to stake a zombie to its gravebed, and we're gold." Dean flashed his winning smile at the waitress.

"Oh," she took a step back, "so you already know."

Dean nodded. "And I really don't appreciate people who stick their noses in other people's families. So why don't you just go rustle up some pancakes for me and back the hell off." The last few words were in a low, dangerous voice and Dean's face could have been chiseled from ice. He glared her down until she turned away and made for the kitchen.

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath, lifting his coffee.

"Dean!" Sam admonished, nodding violently at Rae.

"Well, she is one," Rae told Sam.

Sam's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"

"Dad's right. She is a bitch." Rae picked up her bacon, which hung limply over her fist. "And this is just gross."

"I'll take care of it when the bitch comes back," Dean promised, sipping his coffee with one hand and patting Rae's knee with the other. "She better not think she's getting a tip."

Sam buried his face in his hands. "I don't know if I can handle two of you," he mumbled through his fingers.

"Ha!" Dean said. "I have two Sammies. Top that."

"I have to live with TWO MEN." Rae slammed her hand confidently down on the table, "I win!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a long look. They nodded to reach other. "She wins."

"So," Dean's eyes cut away to look for their waitress again, "any news on that Topeka thing?"

Sam shook his head. "It's been pretty quiet since last month, which indicates it may be a real werewolf. Full moon is in three nights."

Dean nodded. "Plenty of time. We can leave after breakfast. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Bobby called yesterday."

"Yeah?" Sam cut into his sausage.

"Rae's books have arrived. Two years worth of homeschooling." Dean glanced over at her.

Rae was rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

Dean chuckled. "That's my girl." Rae beamed at him.

"Hey, Darling!" Dean shouted at another waitress. She approached the table with a broad smile. "Looks like our waitress disappeared, can you help us? I'm looking for some pancakes and my kid would appreciate some cooked bacon." Dean grinned at her, giving her a little wink.

"Sure thing, sweetie." As she strode away, Dean turned to watch the way her rear end swayed back and forth.

"Why do you do that?" Rae asked.

"Do what?" Dean asked, still watching the waitress.

"Watch girl butts?"

Dean spun around, startled, as Sam choked on his egg and sausage. Sam gasped for breath until Dean got up and pounded him on the back.

"How about we worry about throwing meat on zombies, instead?" Dean asked, retaking his seat.

"Yeah. Uncle Sam, how does that work?" Rae turned her attention back to her favorite uncle.

"Yeah, Uncle Sam. How does that work?" Dean smirked over his coffee.

Yeah, Sam reflected, this was going to be lots of fun. He was not sure exactly how the hunting was going to work, but if one grown man could manage it with two boys, then two grown men should be able to manage with one girl. He hoped.

To be concluded…


	12. Epilogue 20 Yrs Later

Thanks for all the great feedback! I've had a few requests for a sequel, to see what Sammie Rae's new life is like. If you're interested, let me know.

**Epilogue – 20 Years Later**

Music pounded out of the Impala's speakers, threatening to deafen Sam. With Dean's current mood, however, he had not dared to reach for the volume knob for most of the drive. Now that they were close to their destination, Sam reached out to turn it down to a level he could talk over.

"Turn left at the next light," he told his brother.

Dean grunted, tugging at his stiff collar. "Still don't see why I have to wear this monkey suit," he mumbled.

Sam laughed. "It's a wedding. It's what you wear at a wedding. Especially when you're IN it."

Dean tossed Sam a nasty look as he rounded the corner. "Not my idea," he growled.

"Yeah, well, get over it." Sam grinned out the windshield. A large church loomed ahead of them. "That must be it," he pointed.

"Those psychic abilities are really paying off there, Sammy," Dean snapped, pulling into the crowded parking lot. He drove around to the back where one space sat empty save for an orange cone. Sam jumped out, grabbed the cone and moved it aside so Dean could park.

"Ready?" Sam asked as Dean stepped out of the car.

"Not in a million years," Dean admitted, straightening his black suit coat.

Sam glanced down. "Dude! You wore your boots?"

"What?" Dean was defensive. "They're comfortable!" he stalked off, leading the way. Sam fell into step behind his brother, where he was most comfortable. It seemed so natural, even after all this time, to follow his brother's lead.

They entered the church. The front reception area was nearly empty, all the guests were already seated. They were late. An usher rushed up to them.

"Bride or groom?" he asked. "You're lucky, they haven't started yet. Apparently the bride's father is late," he chuckled.

Sam nudged his brother while Dean glared at the young man. "Where is the bride?" he asked, his voice tight and controlled.

The usher looked like he was ready to argue, but Sam motioned over Dean's head. The young man pointed down the corridor behind them. "Third door on the right.

Dean spun on his heel to march away. Sam thanked the young man before following. Dean did not bother to knock, he threw the door open and froze. When Sam looked over his shoulder, he could see why.

In the middle of the room stood a beautiful bride, she was checking her veil in a full length mirror. When they burst in, she twirled around, a look of joy lighting her face. Without a word, she rushed into Dean's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. Sam could tell Dean's eyes were too wet, but he knew his brother well enough to know there would be no tears.

"Hey Beautiful," Dean said softly into her hair. "The car is out back, if you wanna ditch."

She pulled away, a laugh escaping her perfect lips. Next she hugged Sam around his waist. He rubbed her back gently. "You're a beautiful bride," he murmured.

"Thanks." She wiped away an unshed tear. "I knew you'd make it."

Dean's smile was a sad one. "Wild werewolves couldn't keep us away."

"Who is this?" A young woman in a peach bridesmaid dress approached the men, a look of distaste on her face.

"This is my Dad," she said, laying a hand on Dean's arm, "and my Uncle Sam," her other hand grasped Sam's arm.

Sam patted the hand. "I hope we're not too late. We had a little trouble finding the place." It was just a little lie. He had trouble waking Dean up and convincing him that the wedding was real and not just some nightmare.

Rae's eyes roved over Dean's face. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm glad you're here, Dad. You are going to walk me down the aisle?" It was not really a question, and he knew it. He nodded, uncharacteristically silent.

The preacher bustled in at that moment. "Oh, have the parents finally arrived?" he crowed, delighted that the wedding could finally start. "Since you missed the rehearsal, let me explain exactly what you'll need to do."

Sam waited almost until the ceremony was ready to start. Then one of the ushers insisted on seating him. He allowed the usher to seat him in the front row, his new camera ready. As he waited for the music to start, he noticed some whispers from the friends and family already seated. With a glance, Sam realized that he had been seated in the same manner as the groom's mother. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he looked up the aisle again.

The groom was staring at him. Sam tried to give the boy a reassuring smile, but he looked so young, so very young. He wondered how much Rae had told her soon-to-be-husband about her childhood, about her Dad and Uncle. He guessed probably not much. Even Dean had agreed to keep it to a minimum. At least for now.

The music started. Sam was sitting in a pew alone. He turned around, camera at the ready. The bridesmaids and groomsmen entered two by two, taking their positions each side of the preacher. Finally Dean and Rae walked slowly down the aisle. Sam snapped away, hoping at least a couple of the shots would be decent. Dean stood nervously beside Rae in front of the preacher.

"Who presents this woman in marriage?"

Dean mumbled something. The preacher leaned forward, motioning for Dean to say it louder.

"Her uncle and I do," he said. Sam felt floored. Then again, maybe being seated as the bride's mother was more accurate than he thought. Embarassing, but accurate. As Dean passed Rae's hand over to the young man waiting nervously, Dean leaned over to whisper in the boy's ear. Before he stepped back, he leaned the other way and kissed Rae on the cheek.

Dean sat stiffly next to Sam. Sam leaned far enough to brush Dean's shoulder. His brother did not respond. The ceremony was short, but beautiful. By the time the new bride and groom kissed, Sam's cheeks were wet. He glanced at his brother, wondering why Dean was not ribbing him mercilessly. He was shocked to see a single wet line linking Dean's eye to his jaw. His brother's eyes were red-rimmed and very wet, his jaw clenched tight.

"They're going to take pictures afterwards," Sam whispered. Dean nodded, using the back of his hand to wipe his eyes.

After the ceremony, they sat waiting to be told where to stand for the pictures. The groom's mother rushed over to talk to Dean.

"I have been dying to meet Rae's father! She speaks so highly of you," the woman gushed, holding out her hands.

Dean met her gaze briefly, absently shaking her hand.

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am," Sam held out his hand. "I'm Rae's uncle. You've met my brother, Dean."

"Yes, of course, the famous Uncle Sam, isn't it? Is it true she's named after you? I mean, you don't run into a girl called Sammie Rae everyday, do you?" She laughed, a high artificial laugh. Sam decided she was just nervous, and Dean's behavior was not helping.

"Mr. Winchester? Dean, may I call you Dean?" She asked, stepping purposefully in front of Dean.

He nodded before looking over her head for Rae. Rae appeared with her new husband and the photographer, ready for the group photos.

"May I ask, what did you say to my son? During the ceremony. It's all we can talk about."

Dean gave her an incredulous look. "It's all you can talk about?" he asked. "Boring family." He stepped away, headed towards Rae.

"Um, Mrs. Wilkins, he didn't mean…" That was not true. Dean meant every word. And what did he say, anyway? "He's not trying to be rude. This is just very difficult for him."

Both hands were on her hips. "Difficult, huh? Couldn't be bothered to show up for choosing the gown, the fittings, rehearsal, rehearsal dinner? What kind of father is he, anyway?" Her voice was cold and derisive.

Sam grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "He's a very good father," he whispered. "We live in Canada. This is the earliest we could come. Have you ever heard Rae complain about him?"

"Canada? Rae never mentioned Canada." Mrs. Wilkins whispered back. "She said you were from Kansas."

"Originally," Sam agreed. "But we don't live there. Haven't for as long as I can remember."

"Oh." She obviously had more she intended to say to Dean, but now he had given her something to think about. Hopefully a lot to think about.

Although the group pictures were more painful than being attacked by cursed bees, the reception was just as nice as the wedding. Not too many people, but the group was warm and friendly all the same. Dean sat picking at his plate, staring up at the newly marriage couple. Sam went over to the bar and brought back four beers. He set two in front of his brother.

"Promised I wouldn't drink too much," he mumbled, shooting Sam a look.

"Two beers isn't too much," Sam argued, "besides, it'll help take the edge off."

Dean shook his head. "Hell of a mother-in-law," he mumbled, reaching for a beer.

"Don't sweat it, Dean. I mean, just look at the mother-in-law George is getting!" Sam spread his arms wide, grinning.

Dean chuckled. "Okay, you got me there." It was the first real expression of mirth Sam had seen in weeks. Dean raised his bottle in a toast. "To the mothers-in-law."

Sam laughed, not caring if it was too loud, just glad to see his brother in a better mood even if it was at his expense. He clinked bottles with Dean before drinking to himself and Mrs. Wilkins.

"Speeches! Speeches!" A voice boomed through the reception hall. "I believe the bride's father goes first."

Dean looked panicked. "I don't suppose you'd want to, uh," he nodded at the stage.

Sam shook his shaggy hair. "Not for all the money you've ever hustled." He grinned widely.

"Knew you'd say that," Dean grumbled, standing. He made his way to the stage, amid whispers from the groom's family and their respective friends. He stood on the stage, suddenly shy. His eyes wandered the group before lighting on Rae, sitting in the back with the rest of the wedding party. She was smiling at him. He smiled back. Then his eyes dropped back to the guests and his smile broadened into the one he used while hustling.

Dean cleared his throat. "I really only have one thing to say. I don't know George well, we've only met on the phone." Chuckles from the guests erupted as his eyes snapped back to Rae's face. "But you are coming for a visit next month, right?" Her laughter echoed through the hall as she nodded at him with shouts of "yes!" Many of the guests laughed with her.

"Okay, good." Dean's gaze shifted to the groom. "That's my girl sitting there. You take good care of her." Sam noticed Dean's face harden. "I mean it." He turned and handed off the microphone before returning to his seat.

Sam leaned forward across the table. "I'm surprised you didn't threaten him," he chuckled.

Dean's eyebrows lifted briefly as he reached for his beer.

Sam's brows drew together. "But you didn't. When could you have…" Sam felt like banging his head into the wall. "During the ceremony?" he hissed. "Of all the stupid, bull-headed…"

"Hey, I wanted to give the boy a chance to back out. Too late now." Dean shrugged.

Sam shook his head, standing. Suddenly he could not stand to be in the same room as his brother. "I think I need some air." He headed toward the exit.

"Uncle Sam!"

He spun around to see Rae walking up behind him. "Uncle Sam, where are you going?" Her hair was pulled up into a perfect, fancy, curly thing on top of her head with tiny little flowers sticking out. She looked like a wingless angel in that dress, even with the stern face.

"Just need a little air, honey," he smiled at her.

"Oh. You just found out Dad threatened George, didn't you?" Her stern face melted into a grin.

"Huh? What? You knew?" Sam was floored.

"Of course!" She wrapped an arm around his waist, leading him back to the party. "I even warned George it would happen. Of course, he thought I was exaggerating." She laughed. "I bet he never doubts what I say about my Dad again!" Her arm squeezed him. "Or my uncle."

He grinned down at her. "I thought you'd be upset."

"Upset when Dad is just being Dad?" She shook her head. "You should know better than that, Uncle Sam. I might as well get upset with you when you tell Dad he's being a jerk."

"You'd be upset with me all the time," Sam chuckled.

"Exactly my point," Rae grinned up at him. "Now, since Dad gave me away, I insist on you dancing with me."

Sam looked down. They were in the middle of the stage. Apparently Dean's speech put a damper on that particular reception activity. Slow music filled the hall as Rae reached up to lay her hands on his shoulders. He moved slowly to the music, careful not to step on her dress.

"Dean hates slow dancing," Sam grinned at her.

"I know," she said with a smile. "That's why I saved this dance for my favorite Uncle."

"Sure Dean won't get jealous?" Sam teased.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Rae threw back. They shared a private laugh, their foreheads touching as they swept around the floor, unhindered by any other dancers.

"You better make it next month, you know," Sam whispered. "He really misses you. So do I."

"I know," she whispered. "We'll be there. Honest." They danced for a while before she asked what was really on her mind. "Why were you so late, Uncle Sam?"

"He really, really misses you, Rae." Sam tried to deflect the question.

"Okay," she nodded. "I'm just glad you made it." Sam breathed deeply in relief that she understood, or if she did not that she at least forgave them.

"Freeze!" A man's voice boomed through the hall, electronically magnified. Sam's head whipped around. Dean already had both hands on top of his head. "Step away from the bride!"

Rae stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before Sam stepped back, placing both hands on his head. Sam winked at her as large men in black uniforms with yellow letters FBI emblazoned across their backs rushed into the room. He and Dean were roughly handcuffed before being escorted out under heavy guard.

As they were being forced out of the room, Dean turned his head to shout, "Next month!"

"Yes, sir!" Rae shouted back. When the FBI had taken her family from sight, Rae motioned for the microphone. "I believe it's time for my first dance with my new husband."

The guests, sitting with slack jaws, watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as the new couple danced slowly across the floor. Rae looked over her new husband's shoulder at the reaction. "What's wrong with them?" she whispered to George.

George held his new wife close. "No idea." He hoped his new father-in-law would indeed be able to escape in time for them to visit next month. As he looked down into Rae's confident face, his doubts melted. This was some family.


End file.
